Harry Potter and the Ripple Effect
by aurtrina
Summary: Harry has a vision before leaving the graveyard that causes him to make a hard decision; Posing as Snape's son brings on a whole new set of problems and only time will tell if he is only making things worse for himself. With Voldemort still on his tail, Malfoys, Snape, a new family and the ever-present threat of death, Harry begins to wonder if he sealed his own fate.
1. Prologue

**Longer Summary: Harry has a vision before leaving the graveyard that causes him to make a hard decision: He's not going back to Hogwarts for his fifth year. But, as usual, the decision is taken out of his hands by Dumbledore, and as a (sort of) compromise, he lets Harry attend school as someone else . . . Snape's son. Harry has little choice but to accept. Posing as Snape's son brings on a whole new set of problems though - dealing with Snape being one of them - and only time will tell if he is only making things worse for himself. With dealing with his new classmates, Voldemort still on his tail, Malfoys, Snape, a new family and the ever-present threat of death looming over him, Harry begins to wonder if he sealed his own fate with his decision.**

* * *

 **A/N: Hello, everyone! So, this story is cannon-compliant up through to the end of the graveyard scene in the fourth book but most of the cannon histor.** **we learned through all 7 books will apply to this story. For the most part. It is a Snape mentors/takes care of/sort-of adopts Harry story, but there is more to the plot than that and there will be chunks of the story where it is not a focus. Probaly a few times, but it will come back to them . . . This story will follow both Harry and Snape as they try to navigate through their lives, as they deal with the war, and of course, their trying to get along. It should, at least, go through Harry's seventh year.**

 **There will be a female oc that will show up in parts of a few chapters and stars in one chapter. If you can get past that, you'll find more Harry/Snape drama. I intertwine my plots so she may seem like she's a bigger character than she actually is. If you are looking for a straight forward, Harry and Snape interacting story this might not be for you. Things might seem to stray for a bit but they'll converge eventually. If that's the sort of story you like, read on!**

Harry's readied himself, prepared to run at his parent's signal. All he had to do was reach Cedric and the portkey, and he'd be safe.

Without hesitation, he ran, but started to feel sick. At the last second, he tripped, but managed to get a hand on both the portkey and his friend, but . . .

 _Harry stood in a forest, facing his mom and dad. His mom was beautiful, and he almost couldn't take his eyes off her, but his wish to see where he was overcame him. Sirius and Professor Lupin were also there, but much younger than he remembered seeing them._

" _Does it hurt?" he heard himself asking, but his voice sounded strange. Deeper._

" _Dying?" Sirus answered, a sad smile on his face . . ._

Suddenly, he was in a crowed of people. Harry couldn't remember the portkey trip, but he had made it. He tried to suppress his urge to cry. Through the commotion, Dumbledore was there.

"He's back," Harry whispered, trying not to cry. "Voldemort's back."

Harry woke to voices around him. He could hear McGonagall nearly yelling; he vaguely wondered what had happened that made her sound that angry. From the talk around him, he knew that he they still thought he was asleep. He wished he was. He didn't want to think about any of it. Especially . . .

He didn't tell Dumbledore what he saw. It didn't make sense to him, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure: He was going to die.

He didn't want to die.

Harry watched as Fudge yelled about the impossibility of Voldemort coming back, dropping the bag of winnings when he saw that Harry was awake and left. He watched as Dumbledore started telling everyone where to go, and Sirus and Snape reluctantly shaking hands, and Sirius leaving with the promise of seeing him again soon.

He felt nothing.

Dumbledore said something to him before leaving with Snape.

"Drink the rest of your potion, Harry," Mrs. Weasley told him. He drank it without question, welcoming the sleep.


	2. Chapter 1 - Help

**Chapter 1**

Harry stood on the steps, looking out the small window. He really hoped no one would find him there; he wasn't ready to tell them yet.

 _Maybe I won't tell them,_ he said, his chest almost hurting, thinking about it. _I'll write them a letter. I'll write everyone a letter when I'm back at the Dursley's._

Wiping away his tears, he knew it was the right decision, but he started crying again when he thought about Sirius and Ron and Hermione.

 _They can still visit me_ , Harry thought. _If the Dursleys let them. And I'll still write them._ But he knew, _knew,_ that he couldn't come back to Hogwarts. He couldn't come to Hogwarts, because he would die. He wondered, not for the first time, if his aunt and uncle would like him better now that he decided he didn't want to learn any more magic. _They will be ecstatic that I think magic is bad, too_. Even though that wasn't quite the truth.

But he didn't want to die.

"Potter, you should be in the Great Hall," Snape said behind him, causing Harry to jump. He turned and glared at the man. Dumbledore seemed to trust Snape, but that didn't mean that the man wasn't still a git. "Must think you're above all rules, now that you're the Champion of Champions."

"Well, don't worry," Harry said angrily, without thinking. "You won't have to deal with me next year." He turned toward the window when he realized he let on his plans to _Snape_ first, of all people.

"Potions is a required fifth year class," Snape drawled. The potions master seemed as if he had more to say, but no further comment came. Harry turned back to glare at his teacher. "Is the great Harry Potter running and hiding from his fans?"

The man was mocking him. Harry felt his anger get out of his control. "Yes, I'm running away, so what? I don't want to be Harry Potter!" he yelled. "I – I want to be . . . I just want to be . . . _Harry . . ._ " Harry trailed off, realizing who he was talking to and expecting points to be taken despite it being their last day at Hogwarts.

But Snape just stared at him for a few moments before turning and walking back down the stairs.

He started crying again.

Severus sat down on the head table with the rest of the staff. He missed Albus' speech, he realized, looking at the faces of the students. He looked at Albus, who seemed to be looking at him expectantly. Giving a nod, Severus looked down at his plate.

He had gone to see the Dark Lord, who was at first angry at his hesitation, and then pleased at his thinking ahead. Thinking about it made his lose what little appetite he had left, and his mind wandered to Potter. He should have rebuked the boy, but Potter's words had honestly surprised him and Severus left the boy to sulk on his own.

Severus couldn't quite put together his image of Potter and the conversation that had just occurred. Potter loved his fame, loved the attention . . . or not? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter enter the Great Hall and sit with his friends. Most of the students avoided looking at him or started whispering. _Of course,_ Severus thought. _His fame has gone against him, now_. But the more he thought about the conversation, the more he wasn't sure.

Then it hit him what the boy had said.

Harry looked at his uncle after Mrs. Weasley hugged him and Hermione and the others said goodbye. The man didn't look happy, and he didn't figure he would. He was taking a long time.

His aunt and Dudley weren't waiting in the car, so Harry climbed into the front seat next to his uncle, but he glanced at the man to make sure he wasn't going to get yelled at before closing the door. They sat in silence most of the way; Uncle Vernon didn't even bother saying hello, and Harry was too deep in his own thoughts of when to tell them he wasn't going back to Hogwarts.

 _Its going to be easier if I just say it now,_ he thought _, in case I try to change my mind later._

"I don't want to go back to Hogwarts next year," he said quickly. _Get it over with_ , Harry thought.

Uncle Vernon didn't answer, and Harry turned to look at the window, feeling very exposed. He wished he sat in the back seat.

"It's about time you had some common sense," his uncle finally said, and then was quiet again. Harry sighed. "You'll be behind in your studies. You'll have to spend the summer catching up. Petunia said you don't learn normal stuff at that freak school." Harry hadn't thought about that, going to a muggle school again. He had been at Hogwarts four years . . . that meant he had missed four years of school. Slumping, Harry nodded.

"Yeah." From the corner of his eye, he saw the man looking at him.

"We'll get you a tutor."

Surprised, Harry looked at his uncle. That was . . . unexpected.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Harry was quiet the rest of the day. He still felt distant and numb and he was glad when the Dursleys gave him a wide berth. It wasn't until after dinner, lying on his bed and wishing he would fall asleep, that his aunt came to talk to him.

"Vernon said you've had enough of that freak school," she said from the doorway. He nodded without looking at her. "Good. I'm glad to see you've finally listened." Aunt Petunia didn't say anything more, but continued to stand in the doorway. He finally looked up. "I expect you to behave at school. No freakiness. No talking about it. There's people who still thinks you've gone to that delinquent school, and you'll stick to that story. You'll tell everyone you're better now."

Harry nodded, then looked away. He didn't want to think about it right now. He wasn't a delinquent.

Eventually, Aunt Petunia left him alone.

* * *

Severus scowled at the knock at his door, assuming it was someone trying to sell something. He ignored it and went back to his reading. The knocking came again a few times over the next few minutes and Severus sighed as he put down his book and went to open the door. He had to stop himself from talking when he saw who it was. Albus never visited unannounced, especially at his house.

"May I come in, Severus?" the old man asked, and Severus stepped aside.

"And what do I owe this great pleasure?" he asked, his tone hinting this might not be a good idea.

"I'm afraid," Albus said, leaning against one of the bookshelves lining the walls, "that you were correct."

"And on what account are we speaking?" Severus crossed his arms. They had spoken of many topics over the last few weeks, and had agreed on very little.

"Harry," he answered, and Severus narrowed his eyes at the old man.

"He's a child. Just tell him he has to go. He doesn't have a choice." He wasn't sure why Albus was bothering him with this. The boy had gone through an ordeal and got scared. Wanting to avoid the danger made Potter slightly less annoying in Severus eyes, but he was still Potter. He'd rather avoid talking about it.

"That's where the problem lies, Severus. His aunt and uncle are supporting his decision. They wouldn't let me see him and Harry didn't come down from his room. They had, apparently, already chosen the muggle school he will be going to and hired a tutor to catch him up to his classmates."

"That will be dangerous for him," Severus said. "The Dark Lord will have more opportunity to reach him, not less."

"And now you see the problem."

Severus glared at the man for interrupting his time away from the students for a few minutes before relenting and offering him tea. Albus accepted, choosing a seat.

He gave thought to the situation while the water boiled. The Potter boy was scared, no doubt. And perhaps – he unwillingly acknowledged – he was tired of the attention, if the boy's angry words to him were true.

An idea hovered on the edge of his mind, but he pushed it away.

"We must find a way of convincing him that he needs to come back to Hogwarts," Albus said as Severus put the tea down on the small table.

"Why don't you talk to Black?" he answered, sneering at the thought of the man.

"He's . . . otherwise occupied, Severus, and we must take care of this early, before it gets out of hand." Severus sat in his chair and waited for the headmaster to continue. The man did not and Severus scowled.

"Perhaps if the boy was given the opportunity to come to Hogwarts as . . . someone else . . ." he suggested.

"That could be complicated," Albus said, but Severus knew he had sparked something from the contemplating look in his eyes.

"Yes, especially since he would be sorted back into Gryffindor and I doubt Potter would be able to keep from telling his friends."

"Oh, I doubt there would be much of an issue there, with the right argument. There are several other houses he would be suited to."

"Doubtful," Severus answered, and took a sip of his tea. They sat in silence for a bit.

"It would keep him hidden. He already wrote to his friends. Molly was fretting about it earlier. We could have the Dursleys tell everyone they sent him back to . . . St Brutus's, I believed they called it, instead of sending him to a local school."

"Then there would be the transfer problem," Severus pointed out. He saw more flaws in the plan the further it went.

"Ah, yes. No transfers in after fourth year. OWLs." Albus looked deep in thought and Severus put down his cup, eying his book. He wanted to get this over with. "A younger transfer would be less suspicious. And it would give him time to concentrate on his studies without distraction; his grades have been declining over the last couple years . . . We would simply need to give a credible back story." Albus got a look in his eyes that made Severus incredibly uncomfortable. "How long ago was it that you dated that witch? Ronda, was it?"

"I didn't . . . Albus, _no_. I won't talk with her." Albus looked heavy.

"She died, Severus, a few years back. She was quite sick near the end," Albus informed him, and Severus couldn't say he felt much at the news. "But she was rather recluse, was she not? And the timing would be nearly perfect." Severus shook his head at where this conversation was happening. He could see the thoughts going through the headmaster's head now, and he was angry that he even brought it up.

"I will not do this, Albus. And the timing is not perfect." Severus did the math quickly. "The boy would have to be 13, not 15."

"Even better," Albus said. "No one could suspect."

"Albus . . ."

"You promised to protect him, Severus. Are you going back on your promise?"

"And you promised no one would know," Severus said, holding back his anger as best he could.

"And no one will. We could tell Harry I forced you into this."

"That wouldn't be a lie." They sat in silence again. "He would never agree to it," Severus pointed out. Albus sighed, looking his age again.

"Let me work out the details, Severus, and then we'll talk to him."

Severus had a feeling Albus had made the decision for him, and he had no argument that the old man would be willing to accept.

* * *

Harry ignored the knock at the front door. His tutor had just left; catching up was seeming harder than he originally thought, and he couldn't help but wish Hermione was there to help him. Unfortunately, all of Hermione's – and Ron's – letters were about convincing him to come back to Hogwarts. He hadn't told Sirius yet. He was almost afraid to, knowing how disappointed he would be.

"You!" Harry heard his aunt yell from the next room. "What are _you_ doing here?!" Curious, Harry stood up and moved toward the door that led to the living room. He opened it slightly, peeking out. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the front door from there, but he could hear better with the door cracked.

"I'm here to see the boy," Snape drawled, and Harry felt his chest tighten. Not Snape!

"Well, you're not going near him! None of you freaks are! Even the boy has realized the foolishness in that . . . _stuff_." There was the sound of skin slapping against wood, and Harry wondered if his aunt tried to slam the door in Snape's face.

"You listen to me, _muggle_ ," Snape said, and Harry creeped out to peek around the corner, unable to stop himself. "The boy will continue to be in danger if he stays here."

"Now listen here," he saw Uncle Vernon step forward. "Don't talk to my wife that way. And the boy is renouncing magic. No one is to bother him. We've make that _very_ clear."

"The Dark Lord will not respect your _wishes_ ," Snape said, and Harry shook his head. He didn't want to hear this, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. "He would be an open target, going to a muggle school with no defenses."

"No! No!" His aunt said, shaking her head. "We will not deal with the freakiness! Out! Out of my house!"

"Get out!" Uncle Vernon yelled, too.

"No. I promise you both, you don't want to anger me. I am here to talk to Potter."

"How do I know you aren't here to take me to Voldemort?" Harry asked without thinking, then ducked behind the wall. He hadn't wanted Snape to know he was there. And Aunt Petunia was going to be mad at him for eavesdropping.

"Do not speak his name, Potter!" Snape barked at him. "Get out here!"

Harry stood there for a few minutes. Snape didn't seem to be coming after him, and he needed to think. Because he hadn't thought about how Voldemort might be able to get him easier in the muggle world than the wizarding world. But it was a given that if he stayed in the wizarding world, he would die. Was it guaranteed if he stayed here?

"Potter," Snape said, his tone softer, but that only made it more unsettling. "I am here on behalf of Albus Dumbledore, I give you my word. We need to talk." Harry shook his head, but after a few minutes, stepped out into the living room. Snape was wearing muggle clothing, and it took a second to digest that. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at his professor. He still wasn't sure Snape wasn't going to bring him to Voldemort, and Harry's eyes wandered to Snape's left arm, and he heard the man huff at him. Snape glared and held out a note. Hesitantly, Harry stepped forward and took it. Sparing a glance at his aunt and uncle, who were absolutely livid, he opened it. It was from Dumbledore.

 _Harry,_

 _Trust Severus Snape. I was unable to come today._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Harry's first thought was that it could have been forged, but he knew Dumbledore's signature. It didn't look like it would be easily copied. Hating himself for being weak, Harry glared at Snape, then looked at his aunt one more time.

"We can talk in my room," Harry said, ignoring his aunt's shrill yelling and his uncle's gruff mumbling of the number of freaks in the house this summer. When they got to the top of the stairs, Harry realized too late that the locks were never taken off the door, and he refused to look up when he sensed Snape saw them. "I'm not going back," Harry said when the door was closed. "I can't."

"Potter . . ." Snape looked sick, and Harry wondered what Dumbledore had to do to convince Snape to do this. "What if I were to tell you that the headmaster has devised a way for you to attend Hogwarts without the . . . stigma of Harry Potter." Harry did a double take.

"What?"

"The headmaster, realizing the reasons of your hesitance, has found a way for you to be someone else while you attend Hogwarts." Snape paused but started talking again before Harry could process that. "You would, unfortunately, have to redo a few years for a number of reasons, and you would have to try to avoid being sorted into Gryffindor . . ." Snape fell into sneering that bit, "but you wouldn't have the . . . _pressures_ you were dealing with before." It seemed to Harry that it was taking all of Snape's control to sound so even.

Harry just stood, staring at Snape. This is not how he expected this conversation to go. The offer was almost tempting.

"If I were to say yes, who would I be going as?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"You don't get a choice in the matter, Potter. It is simply too dangerous for you to stay here." Harry just glared and waited for an answer to his question. Snape seemed to realize this. "Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape continued, his voice sounding more tense, "has decided that you will be deaged to thirteen years old and will be . . ." Snape trailed off, and Harry's heart dropped. This wasn't sounding good. "You will mascarade as . . . my son." _No wonder Snape looks sick_ , Harry thought before fully comprehending what the man said.

"What? No. And I'd have to redo _two_ years of school?" Harry was so startled, he couldn't find the energy to yell. If Dumbledore if forcing _Snape_ to do this, then Harry didn't think he'd have a way out. And not being THE Harry Potter at Hogwarts was almost tempting enough. He'd still get to learn magic, but Voldemort wouldn't be coming after him.

"Its either that, Potter, or go to Hogwarts as yourself."

Harry sat on his bed rather hard. A part of him was ready to throw a Dudley-sized tantrum, but, "I'm going to get in trouble for this," was all Harry was able to say. "Aunt Petunia's going to be angry."

"She's always angry, Potter," Snape said, and Harry looked up, feeling despondent. He probably wouldn't have been able to catch up to his muggle studies anyway. Just the math alone was a lot.

"How do you know my aunt?" Harry asked, realizing Aunt Petunia had seemed to recognize him. Snape shook his head.

"Well, Potter?" Harry didn't see any other choice. He either died when he was older, or – as Snape seemed to think was likely – soon if he pretended to be a muggle.

"I don't want to die," Harry said, and then clamped his mouth closed, keeping his eyes on his hands. He kept talking when he didn't mean to. Snape didn't say anything for the longest time, and finally, Harry chanced looking up.

"The headmaster and I intend to keep you alive for a very long time, Potter."


	3. Chapter 2 - The Plan

**Chapter 2 – The plan**

Harry stayed in his room while Snape went to go talk to his aunt and uncle. He closed the door, not wanting to hear any of it, but he knew he'd still be able to.

 _Why am I agreeing to this?_ Harry wondered, but knew why.

Snape had told him to pack, but his trunk and most of his belongings were in the cupboard under the stairs. Most of it was his school stuff, and he hadn't been ready to get rid of it yet.

They were going to force him to be _thirteen_ again. Harry wondered if Sirius knew what was going on and started to gather his stuff, deciding to put his muggle textbooks in his to-pack pile. Just in case. Finished, Harry tuned out the yelling downstairs and sat back down on the bed. He felt numb again. He was just starting to feel better, and now he didn't know what to feel.

Snape's _son_? Really? With that, he _really_ hoped that he wouldn't get sorted into Gryffindor. The idea was almost too much too bear.

After awhile, the yelling stopped and there was a knock on his door. He stood to open it, finding Snape glaring at him. "Are you ready?"

"Most of my stuff is in the cupboard downstairs," he answered flatly. Snape looked around, seeing Harry's pile on the bed and looked irritated again.

"Go get it. Your relatives will not bother you."

Harry hesitated, but went quietly down the stairs to the cupboard. Thankfully, it wasn't locked, and he was able to retrieve his trunk without issue. Finishing the packing was uncomfortable with Snape in the room, but he managed to do so quickly, if not neatly. He'd go through everything later.

"Before we go," Snape said in a quiet, dangerous voice, "we will go over the rules. You _will_ behave. You will not comment, and you will not go outside until we have you properly disguised. You will not even step near a window, understand?"

Harry nodded, but Snape seemed to expect more from him. "Yes . . . sir," he said, but Snape still seemed to expect something. "I'll behave!" he argued. "I promise!"

Snape ignored the comment. "I was told you had an owl?"

"I sent Hedwig to Ron's," Harry said, mumbling.

"Good." They stood in silence again, and Harry was sure Snape didn't want to be doing this either. He was sure if Sirus knew, he'd be angry about it, too. _But I'll get to go to Hogwarts,_ Harry thought. Harry thought about the vision. He knew it was real. He knew what he saw, what he felt in the vision; he had been going to meet Voldemort, and he had expected to die, and he was pretty sure Sirius and Lupin were as dead as his parents, although how he saw them, he wasn't sure. Harry Potter couldn't go to Hogwarts. He'd die, and other people would die.

"Let's go, Potter," Snape said darkly, before quickly grabbing the trunk and Harry's arm – rather tightly – and suddenly it felt as if he got squeezed into the tiniest space imaginable. It didn't last long, though, and Harry found himself gasping for breath, on the ground, ready to hurl. He managed not to vomit, though, and realizing Snape was watching him, he stood as quickly as he could manage, glaring at the man.

"Your room is the second room on the left, at the top of the stairs, Potter. Keep it neat and stay away from the window. I have potions to brew, so stay occupied and away from me." Snape sneered down at him. "And I expect you to be presentable. I don't care what the _muggle fashions_ are today, Potter, you look ridiculous."

Harry glared back at his professor, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that the blow had hit a sore spot. He wasn't his fault that all the Dursleys would give him was Dudley's old clothes. Wanting to get as far away from Snape as possible, Harry looked around the room, but wasn't sure where to go. Every wall was covered with bookshelves, and there wasn't a staircase in sight. _Figures_ , he thought. With a flick of a wand, though, one of the bookcases swung out, revealing stairs, and Harry hurried up them.

The room was small, but the bed looked more comfortable than the one he had at the Dursleys' house. He set his trunk down, tempted to pull the curtains aside and look out the window, but stopped himself before it was too late. Angry, Harry lay down on the bed and glared up at the ceiling, which had strange burn marks right above the bed. Harry sighed.

He jumped when he heard a thump from downstairs and realized he better change into something better before Snape saw him again. Harry wondered bitterly if Snape would rather him wear clothes that were better fitting but more ragged or clothes that were in better shape but three times his size. Deciding that both would probably get the potions master angry at him, he opted for his school robes. They were starting to get a bit small, but at least they looked nice.

After a few minutes, Harry found himself bored again. He considered looking over his math book again, but decided it would be futile; Dumbledore wasn't going to change his mind, he guessed. There were a few books on the small desk in the corner – the room only had the bed, desk, wardrobe and nightstand – and Harry picked one up, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble for touching stuff he wasn't supposed to. _If he didn't want me to touch it,_ Harry thought _, he shouldn't have left it in a room he said was mine._

The book was some novel, he noted. A wizard one, he gathered from reading a paragraph from the middle of the book. He looked over the other three, curious. He supposed it made sense that the wizarding world had novels, just like the muggle world, but he was never much into reading himself – the Dursleys never kept books around, as they'd rather watch the telly – and Hermione always read books on school subjects. He couldn't remember her ever trying to convince him to read a book for fun that wasn't on charms or history or something like that.

Not able to think of anything better to do, Harry picked the one that sounded the best and he lay back down, bunching the pillows so he could sit up a bit.

* * *

Bottling several vials of each potion, Severus checked the time. It was about dinner, and he had been surprised he hadn't heard the Potter boy all afternoon. He hadn't even heard him wandering around, which meant that the boy had stayed in his room this entire time.

 _Probably sulking_ , Severus thought, although he wasn't so sure he didn't want to sulk himself. Banishing the leftover potions, Severus checked the vials to make sure the seal was good before leaving the kitchen to check on Potter.

The boy was laying in bed, in robes, reading one of the books Severus had left for him in the room. _At least I found a way to keep the boy out of trouble_ , he thought, although he hadn't expected it to be that easy. Potter didn't seem to be the type to spend his day reading.

"Potter," he said slowly. "We are in a muggle neighborhood. Robes are not appropriate attire." The boy looked up from his book, looking angry. Severus was pleased he was able to make him angry so easily.

"Well, I didn't know that, did I? I can't even look out the window." Severus scowled at the brat.

"We may not be at school, but you will still address me appropriately, Potter," he said dangerously. Potter seemed to be trying to hold his tongue.

"Nothing else fits properly, _sir,_ " Potter said between clenched teeth.

Severus glowered at Potter, trying to determine if the boy was being truthful or trying to mock him. "Take out your clothes, Potter, so I can determine if this is true." He inwardly smiled at Potter's blushing face. At least he was getting something out of this arrangement. He watched as Potter threw open his trunk and pulled out a pile of clothes, some muggle, some wizard. Severus stepped into the room as the boy threw them on the bed. "This is it, Potter?" Severus asked, and he mumbled a, "Yes, sir."

Severus sifted through the clothes. Mostly over-sized jeans and t-shirts and what looked like ill-fitting undergarments. There were the boy's school robes, although most of them looked like they were from when the boy was younger, but Potter was right. Nothing was acceptable. The narrowed his eyes at the boy, wondering why, when Potter's broom was top of the line, most of his clothes were definitely second hand. Thinking about it, though, he supposed he wouldn't put something like that past Lily's sister. She was an awful woman, and probably did all she could to make Potter feel bad for going to Hogwarts.

Not wanting to think about it, Severus left Potter in the room and went to the attic. His clothes from his own childhood were probably still there – Severus wasn't prone to throwing things away that were still usable – and he dug through some boxes before he found the right one. They were the clothes he saved up for himself when he was in his sixth year. They would still be slightly big for Potter, but better than what he had.

He wasn't about to be forced to look at an ill-dressed Potter all day until he finished putting together the disguise.

Potter was still standing where he left him, staring at the pile of clothes with a look of hate on his face. Severus put down the box of clothes, not too lightly, and the boy looked at him.

"These should be sufficient for the time being. Go through your pile of . . . _clothes_ , and what doesn't fit, put on the table in the living room. I will take care of them." Severus started to leave, but stopped in the doorway.

"Dress and come down to dinner," he said over his shoulder, behind walking downstairs.

* * *

Harry stood where Snape left him, unsure if he wanted him to go through the clothes now or dress and go downstairs now . . . shaking his head, he decided to get dressed first and deal with the clothes after dinner. He didn't want to give the man an excuse to not give him food, and being late for dinner would probably be something big, in his eyes.

Opening the box, Harry pulled out a couple pairs clothing. They looked a little worn – he hadn't been expecting anything new anyway – but they looked a lot nicer than the jeans and t-shirts he currently wore. Slightly faded black trousers and button up shirts, he was reminded of the clothes Snape was currently wearing.

 _Ugh_ , he thought. _I'm not even de-aged yet, and Snape is making me dress like him_. Although, it was nice to be able to put on clothes where the belt was almost not needed, he had to admit. He settled for a light green shirt and kind of wished he had a mirror in the room.

Remembering who was waiting for him downstairs, he hurried down and found the door to the kitchen. The small kitchen, which was crowded and seemed to be half potions lab, where cauldrons and vials filled up most of the counter space. The table, thankfully, was clear.

"There are plates and silverware in the cupboard in front of you, Potter," Snape said, and Harry automatically pulled out enough for the both of them and stood waiting for the man to finish at the stove. "Sit," his professor barked, and Harry did so. He really wasn't sure what was expected of him here, and Snape seemed to be getting irritated that Harry couldn't read his mind.

Before Harry could think much more, Snape had thrown down a potholder and put the pot down on the table hard. Harry winced, surprised. Something had set Snape off, and he really hoped it wasn't something he did. They ate in silence until Snape's left arm twitched.

"I'll be back, Potter," Snape growled at him. "Finish dinner, clean dishes and put everything away. Then I expect you to go to your room and stay there. Do not answer the door for anybody."

Harry stared after Snape, wondering what just happened. Did he get called by Voldemort? Was he going? Thinking it was the only thing that made sense, Harry quickly finished the rest of his food and did as Snape had asked before going to his room and closing the door. The scrunched his nose at the old lock in the door, wishing he had a key.

The next morning, Harry woke to voices downstairs. He burrowed further down into the covers before he realized the voices belonged to Snape and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore!

He was out of bed quickly and almost out the door before he realized he wasn't supposed to leave his room. For how long? _Snape's back and Dumbledore's here, it should be alright, right?_ he wondered, wanting answers from Dumbledore. He felt himself get hot in the face when he realized he was about to run downstairs in the pajamas, though. Snape probably would have killed him for something like that.

 _Why do I care what Snape thinks?_ a part of Harry's mind asked him.

 _Because I want to eat_ , he told himself. _And I don't want to be locked in a room all day._

He sighed and dressed before quietly walking down the stairs. Snape had seem to make sure the bookcase was open now at least, so he wouldn't have to try to figure out how to move it without knocking all the books off.

"Potter, are you eavesdropping?" Snape barked and Harry stepped further down the stairs.

"No," he said forcefully, adding a 'sir' as an afterthought. Snape regarded him coldly.

"There's eggs and bread in the icebox. Make yourself breakfast and come back in here when you're done eating." Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled and nodded. Reluctantly, Harry obeyed. He wanted to talk to Dumbledore now.

Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be done with their conversation by the time Harry finished cleaning up his breakfast, and they were both looking at him expectantly when he walked in, albeit Snape was more scowling than anything. Unsure of what to do, Harry stood across from the two men.

"Go ahead and have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I have heard the Professor Snape has informed you of your options?" Harry nodded, but didn't answer. Now that Dumbledore was here in front of him, he couldn't bring himself to talk about any of it. Seems Dumbledore was ready for that, though. "Harry, can you tell me why you had made the decision to not come back to Hogwarts next year?"

Harry just stared at Dumbledore. The man's eyes were kind, and without the horror Voldemort being back surround them, the old man didn't seem to want to rush him. He just waited, expectantly. He supposed he should tell him, but he wasn't sure he wanted Snape to know. Looking at the man out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Snape was waiting for an answer, too, although less patiently.

"I don't want to die," Harry found himself saying. He seemed to be saying that, thinking that, a lot lately. When did he become such a coward.

"Hogwarts is the safest place for you, Harry. The blood wards can only give you so much protection, especially now that Voldemort -" Snape flinched. "- can touch you now. Is it because of everything that has happened? You don't have to worry about another tournament, and all new staff will be interviewed and monitored closely. There won't be anything to worry about."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, not sure what to say. He hadn't been thinking about what might happen during the school year. He had only been thinking of the vision. _I need to tell him_ , Harry thought.

"I – no," Harry said, and he found himself having trouble continue. The two men in front of his didn't make a move to speak, though, and Harry took in a breath, trying to steady himself. "When – I . . ." _Ugh_ , he thought. "I had a vision, after I stopped . . ." Harry took a deep breath. Why was this so hard? _Just say it!_ he yelled at himself. "Before I left the graveyard, I had a vision that I was in the forest – I think it was the Forbidden Forest – and Voldemort was going to kill me. I was just going to let him!" Harry found himself yelling. "And my mom and dad, and Sirius and Lupin were there and they _knew_ what I was going to do and they were going to _let_ me!" Harry took in another deep breath. He guessed he knew why the vision bothered him so much. Was he really that much of a coward that he was just going to let Voldemort kill him?

Harry looked back up and Dumbledore looked sad, and Snape . . . well, Snape still looked like he didn't want to be there. Like he didn't even care. Which he probably didn't.

"I'm sorry, my boy," Dumbledore said sadly. "You don't know more?"

Harry shook his head. "Why would I just let him kill me?"

"I don't know the context of the vision, Harry. It seems you do not, either. You could be misinterpreting it." Harry shook his head. He knew what he had felt. "But it still stands. Hogwarts is the safest place for you. Your options have not changed." Harry glared at the man, wanting to throw something, but every time he thought about the vision, he got back that same, hopeless feeling and he just stayed quiet. Maybe dying is the only choice I was given, he thought to himself. Die now or die later. He sighed, and he saw his two professors exchange a look. He glared at them.


	4. Chapter 3 - So it Starts

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Just playing around with the characters. 'Cause its fun.**

 **A/N: Thanks for the reviews! More build up this chapter, and the next, getting things ready for the school year. One thing I do want to say, is that Harry is still very Harry, but he's very confused about the emotions that he felt from the vision, so he's going along with a few things he probably wouldn't normally go along with easily. Try to think about how it would be to have those emotions from that final battle - from feeling what is like to knowingly walk to your death - and throw them into a child who was just kidnapped and tortured by the Dark Lord. And Snape, well, he's still Snape. Sure, on the side of the light, but not _nice_. And I mean, what's driving him here is what I understood was driving him in cannon; things might be going sort-of smoothly now, but once they get into a familiar setting, old habits might start trickling in . . . Just wanted to give you a heads up. *Smirks* Oh, I'm also going to be trying to update about every four days. That seem reasonable?**

 **Chapter 3 – So it Starts**

Harry sat in the living room, waiting for Snape and having a lot of trouble staying still. Today, he would become thirteen again. A thirteen year old Snape's son. He had no idea what that was going to entail. He had to admit, this last week with Snape wasn't any worse than living with the Dursleys – maybe even slightly better because Snape let him make his own breakfast and lunch from what he found in the kitchen, _and_ he found himself liking the books that Snape had left him – but . . . he was going to pretend to be Snape's _son_.

He had been trying to avoid thinking about what this next school year was going to be like. Past years, Hogwarts was his home, and he never thought twice about going back, but now, on top of the vision, he wasn't going to be able to talk to Ron and Hermione – although Dumbledore said writing them letters was fine – and he'd have to remake friends, probably in a different house. Because even though Gryffindor was his house, being Snape's son in Gryffindor would probably get him teased more than anything.

But there were upsides. He wouldn't have to worry about all the people staring and calling him a liar while they made up lies about him. Snape had made it very clear that the Ministry wasn't accepting the truth and even let Harry read the Daily Prophet, where half the articles seemed to be lies about himself and Dumbledore. Snape had also been _very_ clear about Harry not getting involved in any discussions about it at school, with anybody. If anybody asked him, Harry was supposed to shrug and say he didn't know, or else Harry was going to get in trouble.

Harry wasn't looking forward to getting in trouble with Snape when he now had more ways to punish him than ever before. Thankfully, the last week had been rather uneventful.

Finally, Snape came out of the kitchen with a box of potions in one hand and a sack in the other. Harry put the book aside; he hadn't been able to read it, anyway, he was so anxious.

"To make the disguise untraceable, you will have to take several potions," Snape said, smirking, and Harry had a feeling they were going to taste awful. Or do funny things to him. Or something, because Snape seemed very happy that Harry was going to be drinking all these. He looked at the box suspiciously. "Each potion will change a different aspect of your appearance. Several will change the same aspect in different ways. Do not question, just drink. If you need to know anything before you drink the potion, I will tell you."

Harry looked up to find Snape looking at him with eyebrows raised.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and Snape handed him the first one. He drank it quickly, and he found it didn't taste as bad as he expected. Several more potions came, but Harry didn't really feel much different, but finally Snape gave Harry a potion which he was told to drink and lay down immediately.

"This one will de-age you," Snape said carefully. "to about nine or ten years old." Harry took the potion, but looked at the man with distrust. That was a lot younger than Snape had told him. "I will then, gradually, give you aging potions interspersed between potions that will change other aspects," he explained, seemingly understanding Harry's question. Harry nodded, but wondered if this was worth all this trouble. The potions were starting to make him sick to his stomach. "It will . . . look more natural," Snape said when Harry still didn't take the potion from him.

It felt like hours later – although Harry doubt he really had taken that long – that Snape pulled the last two potions from the box. "This first one is going to be a sleeping draught," Snape said, "because you'll probably want to sleep through the last one." Harry looked at him questioningly, although he felt too ill to do much more. "It will change your dominate hand to your left hand," Snape explained. "You should still be able to write as you do with your right, but you would have to make an effort to do so, because it will be instinct to use your left. Something as simple as handwriting could give you away, and this is the . . . _best_ fix." Snape paused before handing Harry the potion. He wasn't sure he could actually swallow those last two. "I know you must be feeling ill. I have made the sleeping draught strong enough that when you wake, you should be feeling better." Snape said he understand, but Harry was pretty sure the man still looked happy about it. He manage to take the last two potions, and was relieved when sleep seemed to overcome him.

Harry woke up in his room, very slowly. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that, but he sighed in relief when he woke enough to realize he wasn't feeling sick anymore. He didn't feel any different, actually, until he sat up and realized his legs were a lot shorter than he remembered. Scowling, Harry decided he really need to find a mirror.

Standing up, Harry realized he was a little dizzy, but not enough to stop him from going across the hall to the bathroom. The mirror on the back of the door was full length, and he was relieved to see that he didn't look that bad. His hair was longer than he liked and it kept getting in his eyes, but he looked normal. Okay, so his nose was a little too hooked, and his eyes felt too dark and he would easily pass for Snape's son, but he looked normal. Harry sighed. Plus, he noticed as he brushed aside his bangs, there was no scar. For the first time in his life, the scar that marked him as Harry Potter was missing and it felt like the air had gotten considerable lighter. He laughed.

"Potter!" Snape said from outside the bathroom door. Not wanting to get yelled at, Harry opened the door and looked at Snape. "What are you laughing about, Potter?" he growled.

"Er . . . my scar's gone, sir," Harry answered truthfully. Snape narrowed his eyes at him, but Harry just shrugged. Snape didn't seem to ridicule him at every turn, as he expected, but the man never let an opportunity pass to to do if one opened up. It was usually best to just to stay quiet.

"We need to go over your past, Potter," Snape said, and it took a few moments for Harry to realize what Snape meant.

"Okay," he said, and followed Snape downstairs. The curtains were closed, like usual, but he could tell it was dark outside. He had slept all day. Harry sat and Snape handed him another potion. Harry glared at it.

"It will . . . help you remember the details I am about to tell you more clearly," Snape said. "It will not make you sick." Harry took it and drank it, again surprised that it didn't taste as bad as he thought it would. He wondered if potions tasted better if you brewed them better. He tried to remember to ask Snape sometime.

He stopped himself from thinking any further down that line, not wanting any more reason to talk to the man, and listened closely as Snape went over who they were pretending his mother was, how he grew up, what he knew. By the end, he felt he knew himself well. It was an odd feeling, knowing yourself as two different people. He shook his head.

"Your name," Snape said after a pause. "Is Tristan Mathis Snape. You were Tristan Belroni until I took custody and changed your name." He paused again. "That should be enough. The potion will wear off soon, but you need to eat dinner."

The thought of food didn't make Harry feel better, but he followed Snape to the kitchen anyway. Snape stopped about halfway there and turned to look at him.

"And you _must_ call me Father or Dad," Snape said, although he sounded very reluctant. The thought originally made him angry, but another part of him accepted it. Snape was his father. _Must be the potion_ , Harry thought. "From this point forward I will call you Tristan. Do not respond to me if I call you Potter." Harry nodded and they continued into the kitchen. Food looked to have been cooking for awhile, and, as usual, Harry went to get some plates and silverware while Snape got the food. Only problem was that now he couldn't reach the cabinet. He hadn't been _that_ short at thirteen, had he?

"Tristan," Snape said, and Harry looked over at him. "It is _very_ important that you do not make a mistake in this." Snape walked to him, lifting his chin with his hand so Harry had no option but to look at the man. "My life, and yours, will be at stake if we make a mistake that somebody notices." Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and Snape seemed to believe Harry understood, because he got the plates himself and shooed Harry in the direction of the table to sit.

* * *

Severus looked at the boy, pleased with his work. There was nothing of Harry Potter left, and the boy who sat in front of him – although he did have to add traits from that traitorous woman who was unknowingly posing as his mother – now had enough of Lily in him that Severus could pretend that this was their child. He knew it was a chance he probably shouldn't take, but he was sure that no one had noticed those details in Lily, anyway. No one knew Lily like he did.

It made things easier, in any case, but he was sure that claiming a child while spying on Voldemort was going to be far from easy. He knew Dumbledore had woven the history perfectly; no one would suspect anything differently, but it made him incredibly uncomfortable, having Harry Potter under his roof while he talked with the Dark Lord, discussing plans.

Severus' thoughts turned to less pleasant things. Tomorrow was the Potter boy's birthday. Tomorrow, Dumbledore had made him promise to take him to Black's house on Grimmauld Place to see the mutt. It wouldn't be the first time he was there; it was being used as a safe house, a headquarters for the Order, and most meetings would be held there now.

It would also be Potter's . . . no, Tristan's first test. The Weasleys would be there, for sure, but Severus wasn't sure if Molly or Arthur had been told. Black, unfortunately, had been, but being the brat's godfather, there was little choice in the matter. Severus realized he was going to have to warn the boy, though. Checking the time to make sure the potion would have worn off, Severus put down his fork, and the boy looked at him uncertainly.

"Tomorrow," he started, "we will be making a trip to an Order safe house." At the confused look on Potter's face, Severus continued quickly, knowing the boy would start his incessant question-asking. "The Order is an organization to fight the Dark Lord. That is all you need to know on the subject, do _not_ ask any questions about it. But the reason we are going is because Bl- is because your godfather wishes to see you, and the headmaster has agreed."

"I get to see Sirius?" the boy asked, and Severus nodded. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Black.

"You must not acknowledge him until we are alone with him and the headmaster. The headmaster will be there to make sure there is no eavesdropping. Black is, as far as I'm aware, the only other person to know of our . . . arrangement, but there will be, no doubt, others that you know at the house. Keep your guard up."

The boy just kept smiling, and Severus wished he could think of something that would wipe that smug look off his face.

* * *

Harry was so excited. He was going to see Sirius today! He didn't care what Snape had to say otherwise.

They were going to apparate to a nearby park and then walk the remainder of the way. Harry hated apparating, but at least this time, he didn't feel the need to hurl, so he considered it a success. "Stay with me," Snape said, and Harry had to rush to keep up with Snape, even though it didn't seem like the man was walking that fast. Harry was just really short now. After awhile, they stopped at the fence between two houses and Snape held out his hand. Harry looked at it warily.

"Take my hand, Tristan, its the only way in." Reluctantly, Harry did so. He hated the reminders that he had to pretend Snape was his dad. At least during the school year, he was sure he would still only have to see him during potions class. Suddenly, a house started to appear between the two houses, and Harry watched in amazement. Even after all these years, it seemed amazing what magic could do. Snape didn't let his hand go as he walked up to the houses, though, and it was making him uncomfortably warm.

Snape finally let go when they were inside, and Harry looked around. The front hall, which led straight forward into a room, was narrow, there were stairs to the left going up, and another hall to the right. It was unsettling, and Harry was having trouble staying still. Hearing voices, he looked up to see his friends looking down at him from the next floor up and it took every ounce of his will power not to say hello. Snape seemed to realize this and put a hand on his shoulder. Here, the feeling from that vision was strong, though, and that was really the only reminder he needed to keep his mouth shut.

"Ah, Severus you're here," Dumbledore said, coming out of the room down the hall. "Good. And I see you've brought Tristan."

"I was hardly going to leave him home alone," Snape said. Dumbledore walked past them and Snape nudged Harry forward to follow. Annoyed, Harry glared over his shoulder. Snape's look dared him to disobey and he followed Dumbledore. It probably meant he was going to see Sirius, though, so that thought cheered him up, even though the house was gloomy.

Snape closed the door on a small room and Harry saw Sirius immediately.

"Hey, kiddo," Sirius said, standing up. "I was told you'd look different but this is ridiculous." Sirius was smiling, though he appeared to be avoiding Snape at all costs. Probably for the best. Sirius got in close and whispered. "Are you sure you want to do this, Harry? With _Snape_?" Harry paused, but nodded. After a very noticeable glare at Snape, Sirius started talking with Harry.

After too short of time, Harry was sent out of the room, much to his disappointment, and down the hall a bit, he ran into Bill. Almost literally, because they both turned the corner at the same time. Harry took a few steps back, not sure what to do. He had to pretend he didn't know him, and it made his chest hurt. He took a few deep breaths in.

"Sorry, kid," Bill said. "What's your name?"

"Tristan," he answered easily. He avoided giving the Snape name, although it was probably obvious who he was supposed to be.

"You're with Severus Snape?" Bill just seemed curious, not mean, about it, so Harry relaxed a little bit and nodded.

"He's my dad."

"Really?" Fred said, coming up behind Bill, George and Ron beside him.

"Snape has a kid?" George asked, and the twins had a familiar glimmer in their eyes. Harry really hoped now they weren't staying long enough to eat anything, because he was sure that they would try to slip something into his food. He eyed them cautiously. It'd almost be funny, he realized, if he was on the other side of the situation, and that made him wonder about himself.

Bill seemed to notice what was going on and interrupted the twins before they could say anything else. "Well, Tristan, I'm Bill, this is Fred, George and Ron. Welcome."

"Hi," Harry said before Bill dragged his brothers off, much to Harry's relief. Not sure what to do, Harry wandered down the hall where Dumbledore originally came from and found a kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting at the long table and looked up when Harry walked in, causing him to stop short. He was glad he got to see Sirius, but seeing everyone else was beginning to be too much. He wanted to talk to them so much.

"Well, hello, there," Mr. Weasley said. "I didn't know we were expecting more children."

"Oh, sush, dear, I believe he's with Severus. Albus had said something earlier about his getting custody of his son."

"Ah," Mr. Weasley answered, and Harry wanted to point out that he could hear them.

"Come here, dear, you look hungry. Let me get you something to eat," Mrs. Weasley said, but Harry didn't move forward yet. He looked over his shoulder to see if either of the twins were behind him. "Come along, dear, its fine. We're friends of your father's. Tristan, is it? I heard you are going to be transferring into Hogwarts. All our children have gone there. Where did you go before, child?"

"Er . . . my mom homeschooled me," he said, finally walking into the kitchen. He could probably trust Mrs. Weasley to get him food that the twins haven't put any tricks into, and it _was_ nearly lunch time.

"Well, sit, sit, Tristan," Mr. Weasley said, looking up from the newspaper, and Harry sat down next to him, glancing at it. Mr. Weasley saw him and folded up the newspaper, putting it out of Harry's reach. "What year are you going to be in?"

"Third year," Harry answered glumly. Third year, again.

"Ah," Mr. Weasley said. "You're even younger than Ginny. She'll be in fourth year, this year."

Harry looked between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as a plate of sandwiches was put down in front of him, not completely sure they didn't know. They seemed awfully nice right now, and they didn't even know him. Granted, they were really nice before, when he met them the first time, too. It made him feel a little bit better that not everyone will judge him for being Snape's kid.

When Harry was nearly done with his sandwiches, he saw Snape come into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Harry.

"There you are," Snape said sharply. "This is not a house you want to be wandering around in."

"Relax, Severus, I just got him some lunch. Would you like something?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"No," Snape said. "Come, Tristan, we're leaving." Harry saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley give a look between them as Harry stood up.

"Thank you for the food," Harry said before following an impatient Snape to the front door.


	5. Chapter 4 - What's in a Wand

**A/N: Thanks again everyone for the reviews! Plot bunnies starting to make droppings here . . . with more to come. hehe. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 4 – What's in a Wand**

Harry looked up from his food to find Snape staring at him again. He had been doing that frequently for the last few days, and it unnerved him. Snape's staring changed to a glare when he realized Harry had noticed, and Harry glared back. But at least an odd-acting Snape was better than a criticizing Snape.

"Your Hogwarts letter came," Snape said, and Harry just continued to look at him. "We will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get your supplies, and you need a haircut, as you can't manage to keep your hair out of your face." The criticizing was there there, though, he noted to himself.

"Okay," Harry said, not knowing what to expect from a trip to Diagon Alley. Another thing potentially ruined by being Snape's son. Harry had more-or-less good memories of visiting there.

His eyes narrowed more when he realized he would not be able to get into his vault to buy his supplies. He pointed this out the Snape, who stared at him in silence again. Harry was beginning to wonder if he was just being incredibly annoying to the professor and Snape was trying to not yell at him, probably on orders from Dumbledore. The thought made him smile, which he tried to hide by spooning more food in his mouth.

Snape looked like he was going to say something, but then closed his mouth and continued eating. Harry sighed. He must be _really_ making Snape angry.

Harry cleaned the dishes – which seemed to be his only chore – and was about to leave when Snape called after him.

"Don't forget to take a bath tonight, Tristan," Snape said, and Harry darted out, blushing. He had honestly forgotten.

* * *

"How are we getting there?" Potter asked, and Severus nodded toward the fireplace. He was reading, and the boy had decided his room was too good for him at the moment. "When are we going?"

"Later, P . . . Tristan. Go find something to do." He watched as the boy looked around the room at the books. "Those books are not suitable for you. They would be far above your level. Read the books I gave you." The boy glared at him.

"I finished those."

"Surely you have games to play."

"No . . . We always played Ron's games."

"What do you normally do in the summer? Go outside and play. Stay in the yard, I don't want to have to go searching for you. In fact, stay in the _backyard_." The last thing he needed was for a muggle to kidnap the boy. This wasn't the safest neighborhood. It was bad when he was a child, and it had gotten worse in the last years.

The boy glared at him again and went into the kitchen. He listened for the door then tried to go back to his reading. Perhaps he should assign the boy more chores. A bored Potter was not a good thing.

Severus sighed. He wasn't sure what to do with the brat now. It felt as if they had both grudgingly accepted their fate, with Albus not giving them a choice. The old man had made up his mind. That didn't matter. He was doing this for Lily. Lily would want her son to go to Hogwarts and do well, and it had fallen on Severus to make sure that happened.

He knew she would forgive him now. He was raising her son. Severus smiled, perhaps the first time in a long time. He wouldn't let her down, not this time.

* * *

His first haircut at a barber, he decided, was great. Much better than those cuts his aunt would do, even though she did get better as he got older. Probably because she had let him keep _some_ length to it and not cut half of it short, leaving the fringe to cover his scar. And now, he didn't have worry about hiding a scar. Snape let him choose how he wanted his hair, and he decided now he wanted it short. Not buzz-cut short, but still short. And his hair lay flat, which was something else he didn't have to worry about.

Harry caught himself happy about the situation and scowled at himself.

Snape was paying for everything, though. His clothes – both his robes and muggle clothing – his books, his school supplies. Harry wondered if Snape was keeping track so he'd have to pay him back later.

All in all, the day had been going well, until they were on their way to the wand shop. Snape said he couldn't use his current wand – obviously – but he wasn't looking forward to having to get a new wand. To top it all off, they ran into the _worst_ people possible.

Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy didn't give him a smug look, though. _And why should he?_ Harry thought. _He doesn't know who I am._

"Severus. This is a surprise," Lucius Malfoy said, and Harry did his best to not look like he hated both of them. Malfoy senior looked down at him expectantly.

"Lucius. This is my son, Tristan." At Malfoy's questioning look, Snape explained. "I recently gained custody of him and we're getting his school supplies now."

"And he needs a wand? How old is he, twelve?" Malfoy asked, obviously noting which shop they were about to enter.

"He'll be turning thirteen in a few days," Snape answered. "His mother hadn't bothered to buy him his own wand." Malfoy sneered before turning to his son.

"Draco, why don't you bring Tristan inside so he can pick out his wand? We'll be inside shortly."

"Yes, Father," Malfoy said, and with a smile, waved him over. Harry followed after getting a nod from Snape. "So, you're coming to Hogwarts this year? Think you'll be in Slytherin?" he asked. "I'm Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy. Our fathers are friends."

Harry couldn't help but think Malfoy talked as much as Hermione sometimes. "I don't know what house I'll be in. Dad hasn't talked much about school yet." Something about that sentence made Harry feel good, and he wasn't exactly sure why.

"Oh, you'll probably be in Slytherin," the boy said. Being two years younger, now, Malfoy seemed a lot bigger.

It took him a few minutes of Malfoy talking before he realized what Snape said. His birthday was in a few days. He had forgotten about that. His birthday was August 14th. That wasn't a good thing forget. Not that he expected anything, but . . . people generally remembered their own birthdays.

Mr. Ollivander finally came out of the backroom and he greeted the boys before pulling out several boxes of wands. "Give is a swish," the old man said, and he did. The box it had come out of started on fire, and Malfoy laughed. Harry glared at him, who shrugged.

"Try the next one," Malfoy said. With each flick of a new wand, it seemed like the disaster got worse and worse, and by the tenth one, both Malfoy and Harry were laughing at how bad the wand went off. But then he sobered up when he realized he needed a wand.

"I'm never going to find one that works!" Harry said.

"Sure you will, Mr. Snape. But the wand chooses who wields it, not the other way around," Ollivander said, bringing out a second set of wands. "I think one of these might be better suited for you. Try this one: Dragon scale, oak, slighly swishy." Harry tried it, and nothing exploded, so he guessed that Ollivander was right, but it was four more wands before he found one that fit. He didn't even have to swish or flick it to know. "Hmm," Olliviander said. "Ebony, ten inches, slightly bendy . . . threstral tail hair. That's the only wand I've made using threstral tail. I wasn't expecting it to be a match for anyone. Well, good."

Ollivander seemed lost in thought, and Harry wondered if his wand match really was good. Malfoy didn't seem to see it as a problem. Thankfully, Snape came into the shop before Malfoy could say anything else. Malfoy senior seemed amused at the destruction Harry seemed to have caused while trying to find a wand. Snape just looked annoyed and paid before they went outside.

"We must be on our way, Lucius. We have several more stops before dinner."

"Of course. You don't mind me giving Tristan his present now?" Snape nodded once, and Harry narrowed his eyes. Malfoy got him a present. "For your birthday. Open it when you arrive home," the elder Malfoy said, and the younger smiled. "Can I get something?" he asked, and the Malfoys departed, leaving Harry to stare at the gift the man had set in his hand. He looked up to see Snape staring at him.

"What did you and Draco talk about?" he asked, and Harry could tell he was trying to make it sound as nice as possible in the public street.

"He talked, mostly," Harry said, realizing belatedly that he actually had a little fun. With Malfoy, of all people. He guessed it helped that he wasn't Harry Potter. "about how I was probably going to get sorted in to Slytherin and the sorting hat. It took forever to find a wand, though. I kept starting fires and blowing things up. Ollivander opened an umbrella because things kept falling on him . . ." Snape nodded.

"But you found a suitable one?"

"Yeah," he said, looking down at his wand. He felt as comfortable with this wand as he did with his first one, but it almost felt like he was betraying his wand. Not that he had much of a choice. Snape had sorted through all this things and had hidden away everything that could have been marked as 'owned by Harry Potter'. Which was nearly everything. Most of it was school stuff, but he had been reluctant to give up his photo album. Snape finally relented, and said that once they were at school, if he wanted to look at it, all he had to do was ask. Harry wasn't sure he believed the man, but the hope was still there.

The rest of the shopping went smoothly, for which Harry was grateful. He wasn't sure he if could handle running into anymore Slytherins. Or anyone else he knew, for that matter.

"Is it safe?" Harry asked when they arrived back at Snape's house. He had put the gift box on the kitchen table while Snape was preparing dinner and sat with his chin in his hands, staring at it.

"Yes," Snape said flatly.

"Are you sure? It's Malfoy."

"And he believes that you're my son. It's safe."

"Yeah, but he was the one who put Tom Riddle's journal in Ginny's books," Harry commented, still not trusting it. He was curious as to what the man got him, though. It was too small to be a book or anything like that.

"Just open it," Snape snapped. "He'll be asking if you like it next time he's sees you, so you better know what it is."

Harry sighed. He had the odd feeling that he was getting too used to being around Snape. Too comfortable, but times like this reminded Harry that they still didn't like each other. Reluctantly, he opened the box.

A quill. With a box of spare nibs. He didn't know much about fancy quills, but he was sure this one was a lot nicer than the ones he usually used.

"Take care of it, Tristan," Snape said, and Harry nodded, closing the box.

* * *

Severus sat in his desk, going over last minute planning before students arrived. He and the boy had come to Hogwarts a few days ago, but he dropped him off at the train station that morning before coming back. He had been amused at the boy's reaction to learning that, although he was a third year, he'd have to go through the same steps a first year did because this was his first year at Hogwarts and he needed sorting. _Let the brat be embarrassed_ , he thought.

There was a knock on his door, and he sighed, taking his time letting Albus in.

"How have you and Tristan been faring, Severus?" Albus asked, sitting down.

"Well enough," he answered, not wanting to continue on the subject. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"I talked to him, yesterday. He's rather reluctant to admit it, but he's growing attached to you. I can tell."

"He is not," Severus answered. "He's just as imprudent as ever, and an hour doesn't go by where he doesn't pick up a defiant stance."

"Sure, Severus," Albus said. "But that's not why I came to talk to you about. I came because of Tristan's wand."

"You talked to him about his wand?"

"Not much, but it intrigued me enough to ask him about it. Do you know what its core is, Severus?" Severus had to admit he never asked. "Threstral tail hair," the man supplied, examining his own wand. "A very, very difficult core to handle. Ollivander said he made the wand as an experiment, to see if he could tame it enough to make a stable wand." Albus looked up from his own wand. "It took him twenty years to make that wand, and he admitted to me he wasn't sure he could reproduce what he did. One day, it just appeared stable, but it never chose a wizard."

"Until Tristan. Should I be worried?"

"No, no. Perhaps keep an eye out for any unstable magic, perhaps, but there shouldn't be a problem." The headmaster paused. "He might, in fact, find it to be quite a powerful wand."

"Was there a point in the conversation, then?" Severus asked. He had work to do, and the students would be there that night.

"No, no," Albus said again. "I had merely wished to talk about it." The man stood up. "I will speak with you later, Severus. I'll let you get to work."

Severus scowled after the old man.

* * *

Snape had dropped him off at the train station early, so Harry was able to board and find an empty compartment rather easily. Thinking about Ron and Hermione, Harry wondered if perhaps he had blown the whole vision thing out of proportion. It had been awhile since he thought about it, now. He had fallen into a routine with Snape and felt oddly comfortable with his life at the moment.

Unfortunately, thinking about going to Hogwarts as Harry filled him with that sense of dread, that fear, that feeling of giving up, and he knew this was still his only choice.

Not seeing much in the way of students boarding, Harry pulled out the book he was currently reading. He had to admit that reading the novels was a lot better than reading his school books – which Snape had made him look over, despite Harry already having taken the classes. Reading, Harry realized, allowed him to be absorbed into worlds that were not his mess-up life. He could forget the world around him for a little bit. He could forget about Hogwarts and Voldemort.

The thing that hurt the worst, after Ron and Hermione, was that Snape said he couldn't even go near a broom, which Harry was sure Snape had been grinning about behind his back.

"Your job, Tristan, is to do well in school. Which one would hope wouldn't be too difficult seeing as you've already taken all the classes."

"I didn't take Arithmacy or Runes last time," Harry had pointed out, to which Snape had commented about how those were the only electives worth their time. Harry supposed he couldn't argue. Divination _was_ pointless, and Care of Magical Creatures, although he liked Hagrid, didn't really seem all that useful because he wasn't planning on actually _owning_ any of those creatures. It didn't matter, though, because Snape had chosen his electives without consulting him. At least he would be learning _something_ new.

Even still, he had no intention in spending _all_ of his time studying. He might not be able to play quidditch, but he'd find something.

After awhile, a few other kids trickled in. He recognized their faces as Ravenclaw, but he didn't know what year they were. Third or forth. Harry listen to them talk a bit, but they seemed content to ignore Harry, which he was fine with. He doubted he'd have any chance of getting into Ravenclaw.

A few hours into the ride, Hermione and Ron came wandering down the train, peeking into compartments. They had written Harry, saying how they both got prefect. Looks like they were patrolling. Harry slumped down, not wanting them to see him. Ron would recognize him from headquarters, that he was sure, and he didn't want him pointing out to everyone who his father was supposed to be.

His slouching did little good, though, because Ron saw him almost immediately and whispered something to Hermione. To which Hermione hit Ron in the back of the head.

"Hello," Hermione said to him. Harry pretended he was too deep in his book to hear her. "You're Tristan Snape, right? You transferred in?" If the other boys in the compartment were ignoring him before, they weren't now, no. Now they were looking at him curiously.

"Yes," Harry answered. "Hi."

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" Hermione said in her trying-to-be-adult voice, and they wandered off, Ron laughing. Harry tried to go back to reading, but now the Ravenclaw boys were interested.

"Snape, huh? You related to Professor Snape?"

"He's my dad," Harry answered, focusing on the book in front of him, perhaps a little too hard. It didn't help that _saying_ that made Harry feel good again. Why would calling Snape _Dad_ make him feel happy? The boys in the compartment just smiled strangely at him and began talking among themselves, but this time quietly, behind their hands, as if they didn't want him to hear. Harry sighed and waited for the end of the train ride. Any more of this, he might actually start looking for Malfoy.

"Firs' years!" he heard Hagrid calling out when they finally arrived, and Harry reluctantly shuffled over with the first years students. They made him feel like a giant, they were so short. "Ah, Tristan Snape, is it?" he heard Hagrid call out over the first year's heads. "I was told you're coming along with the firs' years! Welcome to Hogwarts!"

All the first years turned to look at him, and Harry could feel his face getting hot.

 _Why does it matter?_ Harry asked himself. _Its not embarrassing to get sorted._ But it was if you weren't a first year, _and_ you were a whole head taller than everyone. It made him stand out. He didn't know why that still bothered him; he should be used to it by now.

Harry made himself smile at all the first years. Remembering what it was like on his first day of Hogwarts, they were probably too nervous to care much about it.


	6. Chapter 5 - Sorting

**A/N: Hey everyone. Again, thanks for the reviews and follows! Glad to know you're liking the story so far. _Anyway_ , not much to say . . . Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 5 - Sorting**

"Snape, Tristan!" Professor McGonagall called out and Harry walked up to the stool, seeing his old Head of House giving him a strange look before he picked up the hat, sat down on the stool and pulled it down on his head. Perhaps a little too rough.

"Ah, now this is a strange one," the hat said. "Don't see people twice very often. And the wrong age at that!"

 _Just sort me,_ Harry thought. _Not Gryffindor. Please, not Gryffindor._

"You don't like your house? Oh, I see. Well, we have a choice now to make, don't we. I do think the best option for you is SLYTHERIN!" Harry looked up at the head table where Snape was sitting as cheers came from the Slytherin table. Snape's face was expressionless, like usual, so he didn't know what Snape thought of that. He knew the man didn't think he would would end up in Slytherin, because he had coached him on what to do when he ran into his old friends in the common room. Now that whole, awful conversation had been pointless.

Malfoy gave him a happy nod as he sat down the table from him in the biggest empty space he could find. He felt completely lost. While the sorting continued, he heard students around him talking about the warning the sorting hat gave. Harry tuned out the rest of the ceremony, waiting for the food to show up.

He was in _Slytherin_. His day really couldn't get worse. He knew Ravenclaw was out, but what was wrong with Hufflepuff? Wasn't he loyal?

Harry ignored the calls for first years being shown where to go. He remembered where the Slytherin dorms were from his second year, but in any case, he just followed the rest of the Slytherins and then found the dorm with his name on it. It really wasn't that difficult.

Letting himself fall back onto his bed, he lay there, enjoying the quiet. No one else had gotten there yet; everyone was catching up in the common room, and it gave him some time to think. _Its just like any other house_ , Harry tried telling himself. Or, at least that's what Dumbledore said. He described the houses as personality traits, some standing out more than others in certain people.

Harry heard everyone go quiet in the common room and Harry sat up, wondering if he was missing something. He guessed he wasn't missing much, since the other boys came into the dorm and stared at him like he was a three headed griffin.

"Hi," one of the boys said, holding out his hand. "I'm Jake."

"Tristan," Harry answered, taking the boy's hand and they shook. The rest introduced themselves: Lucas, William, Wyatt, and Zachary. He was relieved to know that he hadn't known any of them before. It really was a clean slate.

"So, you're related to Professor Snape?" Wyatt asked. "Why weren't you at Hogwarts before?"

"I lived with my mom," he answered. "She home schooled me."

* * *

Severus walked through the Slytherin common room to greet and quiet the students as he usually did the first day of classes. He supposed he could leave that up to the prefects and Head Boy and Girl, but he liked to make sure that everything went smoothly the first day. When he didn't, it never failed that at least one of his students ended up in the hospital wing.

Shooing the students to their dorms, Severus made a note that he had not seen Potter. He had watched the brat through dinner, and he hadn't seem to see anyone around him. Probably not happy about being sorted into Slytherin.

Which, Severus told himself, he had _not_ expected to happen. The boy was a Gryffindor, through and through. A big headed, impossible brat. He knew that the hat took suggestions from the student it was sorting, but it would not place said student in a house that it did not belong, no matter how much they would beg and plead. He had doubted the Potter had asked for Slytherin, in any case.

Glad that his dealings with the boy would be minimal now that school had started, Severus made sure everyone was in their dorms before heading to his room.

* * *

There were two problems that morning. First, he overslept and no one had thought to try to wake him until right before they were heading to the Great Hall, and second, he was pretty sure that Wyatt's cat was trying to kill him. Three times during the night, the cat decided his feet were the best toys ever. He couldn't move without the demon attacking him. Well, that was probably why he overslept, in any case.

He managed to get dressed quickly, though, and the other boys had been nice enough to wait so he wouldn't get lost on the way to breakfast. They went on about house points but Harry was still grateful. He didn't know the dungeons that well and he realized that he actually wasn't supposed to know his way around the castle. That might end up being a problem if he suddenly knew where everything was.

Breakfast went smooth. Several of the Slytherins seemed eager to talk to him and most of them seemed nice. He inwardly groaned when Malfoy acted as if they were already friends, but he managed to hold saying anything back.

Snape handed him his schedule last, with a look that told him if he didn't behave he'd be in trouble. Obviously. His schedule for that day was a rough one. Double potions and double transfiguration. He started to groan before he realized he already had taken the classes and it would be all review.

"Watch, we're going to have potions with the Ravenclaws again," Jake said.

"We do every year," one of the nearby girls said. "Ugh. Worse than the Gryffindors, I tell you. At least all they'll do is the occasional prank."

"What's wrong with Ravenclaw?" Harry asked.

"They're awful! I had to sit next to one last year, and once when my potion was looking better than his, he sabotaged it! And they know JUST how to do it, too so they make you look like you just did something wrong. Just awful!"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew the Ravenclaws in his year were nothing like that.

"Come on, lets get to Transfiguration. Don't want McGonagall taking points for being late."

Transfiguration went okay. They had it with Gryffindors and even though they weren't the friendliest towards each other it wasn't like his class with Malfoy. But from what he gathered from listening to everyone talk, everyone hated the Ravenclaws in their year. It was strange. He just assumed that for everyone, it was the Gryffindors that never got along with Slytherins.

He then had Arithmacy, History, and then double Potions after lunch. He wasn't worried about potions, though. He remembered what they did in transfiguration and was the first to finish so he figured potions shouldn't be an issue either.

They filtered into the classroom and Harry sat next to Wyatt .

"I'm rubbish at potions,"he whispered to Harry. "You're good, right?"

"Er..." he said. "Kind of? Its not like I spend my time making potions with my dad, " he said.

"Oh," he said and Harry rolled his eyes. Still, if they were going to make a potion today, he should still do alright.

They _were_ making a potion, but first Snape decided to do a lecture, which actually ended up half being questions to the students. And most of the questions he put to Harry. Thankfully, there was only one that he didn't know, but one of the girl Ravenclaws – Jenny – smugly answered for him. He glared at her while she gave him the most I'm-out-for-your-blood smile he'd every seen. Behind her was the Ravenclaw boys that he sat with on the train and the look they gave him suggested this might be personal. He scowled at them while Snape started talking about what they were going to brew.

Harry didn't remember the potion they were brewing, but the instructions were simple enough. He didn't realize how much more complicated forth year potions were. They sat, quietly brewing while Snape wandered the room. He didn't make it over to Harry until Harry was nearly finished, but the man didn't say anything; just stood behind him which didn't do much but make him extremely nervous. The color seemed slightly off at the end, but Snape didn't say anything while he bottled it and handed it in.

He finally chanced a look at Snape, who seemed to be glaring at the entire room. He saw Harry looking at him and his face got harder. Harry sighed and sat back down and watched Wyatt finish his potion while he pretended to look over the potions text. Wyatt wasn't as bad as Neville, but he still had a ways to go with the potion and the smell was wrong, probably because he was taking so long between putting the ingredients in. Harry looked around and saw that only about half of the kids were finished with their potion. He sighed and tried to focus on the book.

After dinner, Harry sat with Wyatt in the common room, going over their arithmancy notes. Some of it was sort of like muggle math class but they had to learn these charts, and he wasn't sure if he was going to like the class. After staring at the page in silence for a few minutes, a shadow fell over the book, and he looked up to find Snape standing in front of him, looking at him coolly. Harry desperately thought back and tried to remember if he did something he wasn't supposed to. Snape walked away, then, but Harry stood, knowing the man wanted him to follow.

Harry's stomach clenched the longer the walk to Snape's office took. "Sit," Snape said when they arrived, and Harry did so quickly. Snape sat down in his chair across from Harry, who was almost distracted by jars filling the shelves-lined walls. His attention was quickly pulled back to Snape, though, when he realized the potions master was glaring at him. Automatically, he sat up straight defensively.

"What?" he asked when Snape _still_ didn't say anything.

"You are to _behave_ , Tristan," Snape said quietly.

"I am!" Harry answered, fists clenching.

"Quiet! You are to _behave_ and focus on your studies. Those were the rules, were they not?"

"What did I _do_ , _sir_ ," Harry asked.

"What was that in potions, today? With the Ravenclaws?"

It took a second for Harry to realize what Snape was asking.

"I don't know!" Harry said defensively. " _I_ haven't done anything to _them_ that's for sure. But they say the Ravenclaws are awful, and-"

"Its only the _first_ day, and you're already picking fights, are you? So much like your father-"

"And what's wrong with that?" Harry yelled, standing up. Harry felt so small sitting in the chair, like Snape could stomp on him at any moment.

"Because, _Potter_ , your father was an arrogant, attention-seeking bully-"

"NO!" Harry yelled.

"And you couldn't even manage to successfully brew a potion two years below your level. Do you even know what you did wrong?" Harry crossed his arms and glared at Snape. He _hated_ the man. Harry knew he did _something_ wrong with the potion, and no, he didn't know what, but it wasn't nearly as bad as some that the others had turned in.

And his father was _not_ a bully! Everyone told him how great his dad had been. Snape was just being awful! Harry continued to just glare at Snape, whose eyes seemed to condemned him.

"Well?" Snape asked.

"No," Harry said. And Snape wasn't likely to tell him, he knew. He'd rather just criticize him instead of help him.

"You chopped instead of diced the newt spleens," Snape said flatly, and Harry stared at him for a moment, stunned, his anger temporarily forgotten. A little detail like that was enough to mess up the potion? And what, really, was the difference between chopped and diced? "Perhaps we need to add remedial reading lessons to your class schedule?" Snape's voice was biting, and Harry's anger came back, full swing. "Sit back down."

Harry slammed himself back down onto the chair, hurting his bum as he did so, but he didn't care. He crossed his arms and gave Snape a hateful glare. Snape was no longer glaring at him, but there was still something in the man's eyes that fueled his anger.

"You will focus on your studies, and you will stay out of trouble," Snape repeated quietly, but his tone held a warning. "You made your decision, and you will uphold your part. I will not have you embarrassing me. Now, go and do as you were told." Harry held the man's eyes for a few seconds longer before standing up and stomping toward the door. "Calm yourself before you go. You look ridiculous." Harry just stared at the door, not knowing how he was going to calm himself reasonably in Snape's presence.

When Harry finally got back to the common room, Wyatt had finished studying and was playing chess with William, which was fine because Harry didn't think he could look at a book at all at the moment. He walked past all of them and their watching eyes and threw himself on his bed.

He _embarrassed_ Snape. Just like he embarrassed the Dursleys. How did he ever think that living with the bat would be better than his relatives? And, now that he was his Head of House _and_ his pretend-father, it was even worse.

And, to make matters even worse, his butt was really starting to hurt.

The next day, his dorm mates kept giving him looks and by the end of charms, he had enough.

"What?" he finally asked them after class. They just looked at each other until Wyatt spoke up.

"Well ... It was just that you seemed really upset last night after talking with Snape and you've been having trouble sitting down all day today ..." Harry felt his face get warm when he realized what the boy was suggesting. Snape did not spank him!

"No! I just ... Got angry and sat down really hard on the chair," Harry said hurriedly. "I think I hurt my tailbone or something."

The boys nodded as if it made sense, then. "Yeah, the chair in Snape's office is horrible isn't it? I think he made it so it's that much more uncomfortable for when someone gets in trouble."

"So, what'd you do?" Wyatt asked, giving him a smile.

"Er ... I didn't brew my potion right," he answered, which was partially true. Still, he felt himself get hot in the cheeks again.

"Tough luck, mate. At least when I brew my potions wrong, all I get is a bad grade." Harry forced himself to join in their laughing.

Lunch was unbearable. Not only did he have to deal with Snape, who didn't seem to have anything better to do than watch him, the hard benches were even harder to sit on than the chairs in the classroom. He was going to have to go to the infirmary.

About halfway through lunch, Harry couldn't handle any more and he dismissed himself, letting Wyatt know where he was going. He managed to make it halfway there before he found Snape standing next to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked smoothly and Harry groaned inwardly. He would think that Snape would be eager to leave him alone, what with not being able to stand him and all, but it seemed even that wasn't working out.

"Hospital wing," Harry mumbled with a glare and then, at Snape's look, added a quick, "sir."

"And what did you do?"

Harry just glared at Snape. "Sat down too hard in my chair yesterday, sir," he said as evenly as he could, but he was pretty sure he didn't manage. "It hurts to sit down."

"You should have to deal with the outcomes of you tantrums," Snape said flatly, and started guiding him by a hand on his shoulder toward the dungeons. Harry nearly groaned. Snape was not going to let him get healed! "Maybe then you'll learn to not have them." Every step closer to Snape's office made Harry's heart beat a little faster. What was Snape going to do? But then they walked past his office and continued on, confusing Harry. They eventually stopped at a door, which Snape opened and gently pushed Harry through when he didn't manage to go through on his own.

Harry was surprised to find himself in a small sitting area decorated in mostly neutral colors and a few comfy chairs. Harry just stood there, though, while Snape disappeared into another room. It was a few minutes before he came back with a potion in his hand. He handed it to Harry, who eyed it cautiously. He didn't recognize the potion and he wasn't sure it was a good idea to drink it when no one knew where he was.

"Drink it, Potter, it will heal you."

Harry gave the potions master one more glare before drinking it. Snape took back the bottle.

"You keep calling me Potter," he said flatly while making sure the potion wasn't doing something it shouldn't have. Gradually, the pain got a little better. Snape didn't answer him, though, so he just stood and waited for Snape to give him another order. The man just walked, opened the door and stood there, staring at him, his face blank again. Harry sighed and left, not looking behind to see if Snape was following.


	7. Chapter 6 - Nightmares

**A/N: So, a lot of times passes in this chapter, because the big stuff starts happening after Christmas, but . . . yeah. A lot of the back scenes from the 5th book are still happening, too, even if Harry isn't seeing them as Tristan. A third year Slytherin, even if he's Snape's son, is not really much to talk about in most Hogwarts' students' lives, except . . . well, the Ravenclaws. Probably best to make a mental note . . . don't make Ravenclaws angry. _Anyway_ , hope you enjoy. Feel free to let me know if you do.**

 **Chapter 6 – Nightmares**

The next few weeks were a bit better. Snape seemed to be avoiding him, which was perfectly fine with Harry, and Harry tried to pay more attention to how he prepared his potions ingredients. There were a few potions, though, that no matter how sure he was that he brewed it right, it still wasn't good enough for Snape.

This morning, Harry stumbled out of the dorm room into the common room to find a crowd of Slytherins surrounding the notice board. Wyatt was standing near the back of the crowd and he went to his friend. "What's going on?" Harry asked, wondering if there was a big event going on.

"Umbridge declared a decree that doesn't allow any school clubs or anything unless they've got special permission from her," he answered, looking miffed, and Harry tried to think if he remembered the boy saying anything about being in a club.

"I"ll bet you anything Potter's friends had something to do with this," Harry heard one of the older Slytherins say. "I heard there was a meeting of some sort in Hogsmeade."

Harry tried to tune out the rest of that conversation, trying not to think about what Ron and Hermione were up to. If the decree was anything to go by, and it _was_ Ron and Hermione, Harry guessed it might have something to do about how awful Defense Against The Dark Arts classes were this year with Umbridge. He wasn't sure what they were learning in fifth year, but third year was completely useless. He was glad he remembered what Professor Lupin had taught him.

Ron and Hermione, from what he could tell, were getting on fine without him. He had sent them a few letters, which went through Dumbledore, and they replied quickly, asking him to come back, but rumors were that Ron had gotten Keeper, and Ginny had gotten Seeker, and now . . . well, who knew what they were up to? Harry toed the rug, annoyed. He had been avoiding the quidditch games, not wanting to watch if he couldn't play.

Lucas came up behind them, not seeming to care about the crowd. "Come on, let's go to breakfast. Don't want to be hungry during potions." Harry followed them down to the Great Hall. The talk about the last Hogsmeade weekend reminded him that he still needed to ask Snape to sign the permission slip for him. Snape hadn't said a word about it last time, and Harry had been afraid to ask. The man would probably say no, anyway.

Harry started hanging out with Wyatt and Lucas more than the other boys, but they all seemed to get along alright, and Harry had to admit that being in Slytherin wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. He also hadn't run into Hermione or Ron or any of the other Weasleys that entire time, so that was a bit of a relief for him.

The Ravenclaws, on the other hand, were persistent. They seemed to have something personal against Harry, and if he hadn't been careful – and lucky – he would have found himself in a fair bit of trouble. Once, he found himself diverted down a corridor that spewed some sort of liquid from a vase at the same moment Filch's cat came from the opposite direction; another time, someone had thrown an illusion on a staircase that had moved, so he thought it was still there, and had he not tripped and dropped his bag onto the empty space, he would have fallen two floors. He wasn't exactly sure what to do, because the one time he tried to bring it up to Snape, the man told him he had no proof it was them and to ignore them.

 _Ignore_ them _._ As if he wasn't trying to do that already.

"We should prank them," Wyatt had told him during breakfast. "I have a book of jinxes and stuff that I brought from home. We should come up with a plan."

"No way," said Harry. "My dad would kill me if he found out."

"Well, then, we'll just have to make sure no one knows its us. You know you want to."

Harry knew that he wouldn't mind taking the Ravenclaws down a notch. He looked across the Great Hall at them. A few were reading, but most of them were talking, and Harry wished he could hear if they were planning something. One of them, a girl named June, looked over her shoulder at him and he looked away. The girls seemed worse than the boys.

In the potions classroom, the room quieted as they heard Snape enter, and as usual, Harry avoided looking at the man as much as possible. It wasn't that hard, as he was tired from the unpleasant dreams he had been having lately and he had to use a lot of focus to stay on-task.

The class worked on their potion quietly, and Harry was rather pleased with how his was turning out. Even Snape's glare seemed muffled when he looked into Harry's cauldron. Unfortunately, a good day never seemed to stay good, and when Snape was at the front end of the classroom on the Ravenclaw side – not-so-nicely critiquing one of their potions, from the sound of it – Isabella, who sat in the back of the Slytherin side, was not only missing the crucial fourth step, but had added frog _legs_ instead of frog _eggs_ in step two, and no one had noticed yet because the color of the potion wouldn't change until step six. Well, Snape probably would have, had he not been on the other side of the room, but it turned out that luck was on no one's side that class period.

By the time Harry finished step seven, he started smelling something strange behind him, and, after making sure his potion was stable – he had exactly 6 minutes before he could move to step 8 – he turned around and looked into Isabella's cauldron. Unfortunately, Wyatt seemed to think this was a good idea, too, but _Wyatt_ hadn't yet started step seven, and you needed to add the toadstools _right_ on time, or else it could begin to sputter. Which it did, startling Wyatt and spraying Harry on the back of the head, who yelled out because it was extremely hot. Isabella, who just began to realize she had messed up her potion spectacularly, started to freak and with the added commotion in front of her, added four times the amount of toadstools needed, causing her potion fizzle.

Harry thought he saw movement to his right, in Snape's direction, but it was all happening so fast, he wasn't sure if he should duck or run or stay put and try to banish the potion. Suddenly, all he knew was that he felt like his skin was on fire, and he was sure there had been an explosion in the direction of Isabella's cauldron, or Wyatt's, or both, and he vaguely wondered if it was too late for him to move onto step eight.

Harry woke up with a headache, and he was pretty sure he never wanted to open his eyes again. He heard the talking at the bed next to him, and he wished more than anything that they would shut up.

Slowly, Harry did manage to open his eyes, and he found himself in the hospital wing, the white curtain pulled around his bed. Harry tried to move, but decided it hurt too much. He felt, more than saw, movement near his head before seeing Snape come into his vision.

Harry decided that the pain must be causing his brain to mess up, because Snape almost looked concerned. In any case, it was covered up very quickly by Madam Pomfrey bursting in with a potion that he handed to the professor. She left just as quickly, leaving Harry alone again with the man.

"This will put you back to sleep for awhile, Tristan," Snape said. "You . . . should be better by the time you wake up again." Harry could have sworn he heard Snape muttering how he should have been given the proper potion in the first place as he helped Harry drink it, but the potion he was given worked quickly, and he felt himself drifting off into oblivion.

* * *

Severus sat down in the chair at the head of Potter's infirmary bed. Potter had gotten the worst of the accident, but from a quick clean-through of the classroom, it seemed the boy's potion was one of the few in the corner that hadn't exploded on some level. Still, Potter had just _stood_ there, staring at the potions as they went wrong, one by one. Everyone else had managed to stand back a little, and Severus wondered what had been going through the boy's head at the time.

To say Potter had been burned was putting it lightly. Not only did the boy's robes catch fire, he had also had several layers of boils on all exposed skin, and the back of his head was missing hair. With Pomfrey, he had been able to figure out what the children did wrong to the potions to devise a counter-potion, because general healing potions were not working. It had a few more hours of simmering to be at full strength, and keeping Potter asleep was probably the only thing keeping him from unbearable pain.

Albus came a few minutes later, and the man just stood there for a minute before Severus looked up. The Headmaster looked . . . forlorn.

"I trust the Potions classroom has been cleaned?" Albus asked and Severus nodded.

"I'll be ready for my classes today," he answered.

"I'll take your classes today, Severus. You should stay with Tristan. Your notes are ready?"

"On my desk, but that is really unnecessary."

"Oh, no trouble at all," Albus said. The old man conjured a chair and sat next to Potter's bed. "Don't worry about the report until Tristan is well again, but i do need to know what exactly had happened."

"Several cauldrons had been brewed wrong. Surprisingly, not Tristan's but he merely stood and stared at the cauldron behind him instead of moving out of the way," Severus grunted. And, being on the other side of the room,he wasn't able to get a shield charm up in time.

"Other professors have reported him seeming tired during class. They were wondering if he is adjusting well enough to his situation. It's not, after all, very often a student will start in their third year." Severus glared at Albus, wondering what the point was, as the old man very well knew that this was not the boy's first year at the school. "How has he been faring in Slytherin? He seems to have made friends."

"He's doing fine," Severus answered, but he honestly didn't know any more than Albus. The boy might be posing as his son, but he was still very much Potter and avoidance was usually the best policy.

"Perhaps talk to him when he's better. Perhaps all he needs is a good nights sleep." Apparently, that was all the old man wanted to say, because Albus left, leaving the chair he had conjured next to the bed.

* * *

Harry woke and was relieved to find he could move without pain. There was an after taste of potions in his mouth, though, and he wished he had a glass of water. Opening his eyes, he found Snape standing in front of him, staring.

"Are you in any pain?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head as he slowly sat up. He didn't hurt but he did feel a little stiff. "Come along, then."

Snape waited impatiently as Harry slowly got out of bed and then led him to the dungeons. There were a few people who watched as they walked by but most students ignored them. Harry wondered if Snape was going to yell at him again, but even though he had to have been sleeping for awhile, he felt exhausted and doubted he had much energy to yell back.

They paused briefly at the door to Snape's office but the man seemed to changed his mind because they walked on, in the direction of the sitting room he brought Harry to before.

Inside, Snape waved at him to take a seat and Harry did so quickly. The walk had exhausted him more than he had expected.

The potions master took a seat across from him and stared at him again. Automatically, Harry took up a defensive glare.

"How have you been doing?" Snape asked, sounding as if asking was a great effort.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked cautiously. Did the man mean now or the potions accident or ...

"Are you settling into Slytherin?" he asked, annoyed. "Are you making friends? Are you sleeping well?"

"Er... Its fine," Harry said. He couldn't remember anyone asking him questions like that before and it felt even stranger that it was Snape asking. "I'm getting along real well with Wyatt and Lucas and the others seem nice." Harry thought he saw a change in Snape's blank face but forgot about it when he remembered Snape's last question. He hadn't been sleeping well and he wondered how Snape knew. He hadn't told anyone and he knew he hadn't been falling asleep in class.

"And you've been sleeping?" Snape asked impatiently, and Harry wondered how he would tell Snape he was having nightmares. It seemed like such a childish thing to bring up. But Snape was asking ...

Harry just ended up shrugging. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Verbal answer." Harry sighed.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Harry answered. Snape just stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He felt himself get red. "I've been having nightmares," he admitted. Snape's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything and Harry felt embarrassed to say anything.

"About the events of last year," Snape said flatly, but Harry assumed it was a question.

"Maybe," Harry said. "I guess." He didn't really remember what they were about. A corridor. Sometimes . . . other things. But he woke up scared, just the same.

Snape didn't seem interested in taking the conversation further, and Harry was perfectly fine not talking about it.

Harry left Snape feeling more confused and no better for wear. Not that he expected anything. Snape was the one who seemed to have brought him there to talk and didn't say anything. He wondered a little bit if that was how a dad was supposed to act. Uncle Vernon always just gave Dudley whatever he wanted and he never saw how Mr. Weasley talked to Ron about stuff. Harry sighed as he reached the entrance to the common room.

Things went smoother the next couple months. Snape continued to avoid him, the Ravenclaws finally seem to get bored, and he only had to deal with Malfoy once – which, honestly, wasn't too bad because they only talked about how Harry was liking Hogwarts. Still, the book that Wyatt had brought did seem to have some good pranks. Original stuff that the twins would have loved, and he, Wyatt and Lucas had fun planning what they were going to do if the Ravenclaws tried something again. Harry wasn't sure if he'd actually go through with it – he was still sure that Snape would kill him – but the planning was fun.

He was still having trouble sleeping, though. The nightmares were getting clearer, even though he still couldn't _really_ remember them much when he woke, and the boys in his dorm were starting to notice, too, because apparently he mumbled in his sleep. Not that they were ever able to tell him what he had been talking about.

It was close to Christmas that one of the nightmares were too real. He saw himself as a snake, pleased as he was approaching his pray. Even when he saw it was Mr. Weasley, Harry still felt that happiness.

Harry woke up yelling, and the boys were by him quick, if not yet fully awake. Harry didn't know what to tell them as he tried to get them to understand that someone was hurt, but Wyatt left, saying he was going to get someone and Harry realized he should have gone straight to his dad.

 _Snape_ , he thought, annoyed that his half asleep mind called the man dad. Snape appeared quickly, and Harry looked around at the boys staring at him.

"What is going on here?" Snape asked. Harry blanched. He couldn't tell Snape that Mr. Weasley was dying with everyone here. Snape seemed to understand his dilemma, though, and helped him out of bed, ushering him out of the dorm.

"He's dying, you have to find him," Harry said as soon as he thought it was safe.

"Who's dying?"

"Mr. Weasley! I was - there was a snake and it attacked him!" Harry realized belatedly that he had been the snake.

"A nightmare," Snape said. "You are still having them."

"Yes! No!" Harry said. "No, it was real! I know it was!" Snape glared at Harry for a moment, as if trying to assess if he was making it up, and it felt like it had been forever when Snape finally made a decision. Snape handed him his dressing robe, and Harry looked at it, confused about where it had come from.

"Come along," Snape said and Harry followed him to Dumbledore office. Dumbledore seemed to believe him, much to Harry's relief, and after what felt like several pointless questions, the Headmaster was telling Snape to bring him back downstairs, reassuring Harry that they'll take care of everything.

Snape didn't take Harry back to his dorm but his sitting room. Now that Harry felt more awake, he wondered where the other doors went to. Snape seemed to have other things on his mind though.

"You're still having nightmares," the man stated again, standing by a tapestry, not looking at him. "Are they all like that?" Harry shook his head.

"I don't usually remember the nightmares," Harry answered simply. He didn't want to talk about them; he was worried about Mr. Weasley and wanted to talk to Ron. He wanted to throw something, he was so frustrated about everything. "What's going to happen? Why did I – why did the snake attack Mr. Weasley?"

Snape finally looked at him. "I don't know," he said flatly. Snape scrutinized him, and Harry looked away, uncomfortable.

"Can I go back to my dorm?" Harry finally asked, and Snape nodded. After a moment, Harry left, finding his friends awake when he got back.

"What happened?" William asked, and Harry shook his head.

"Just a bad nightmare," Harry said, trying to think of something that wouldn't make him sound pathetic. He failed. "I'm fine."

"Well, good," Zachary said. "I'm going back to bed. Now that I'm sure no one is _dying,_ " he huffed in fake annoyance. At least, Harry thought it sounded fake. He wasn't so sure. Still, everyone seemed in agreement, and Harry climbed into his bed and pulled the curtains closed, finding himself not able to fall back to sleep.

* * *

"He's been having nightmares, but claims he can't remember them," Severus answered Albus, who was looking pensive. The Headmaster had been asking him questions, most of which he couldn't answer, but he knew that much, at least.

"I think," Albus said after a while, "that Harry needs to learn Occlumency."

Severus raised his eyes at the old man. "Occlumency," he said slowly. "The boy is mediocre at his studies, in addition to now having the brain of a thirteen year old. He does not have the skills needed for Occlumency."

"This isn't about skill, about taking on extra lessons," Albus said grimly, not leaving room for discussion. "I believe, and there is evidence to support it, that Harry's mind is connected with Voldemort's. We must do all we can to sever that link – or at least block it – before Voldemort realizes there _is_ a connection."

"And if the Dark Lord learns of the connection?" Severus asked.

"I do not know Severus. He might try to possess Harry. Might try to control him, influence him. Voldemort might try to implant false memories, try to convince him of false truths. He _must_ learn Occlumency."

Severus didn't respond immediately. "And who, exactly, is going to teach him?"

"You, Severus," Albus said, and Severus went into all the reasons how that was an entirely horrible idea. This rant, like usual, did nothing to change the man's mind, and by the end, Severus was resigned to spending more time to deal with the boy.

The next morning, Severus watched Potter at the Slytherin table. He had found he had taken to watching the brat from the head table far too often, but he was never quite sure what he expected to find. This morning, Potter was quiet and kept looking over at the Gryffindor table while the rest of the third and fourth years talked around him. He was going to have to do something about that.

Tomorrow began the holiday break, which would make it a little easier.


	8. Chapter 7 - Occlumency

**A/N: Hello and thank you reviewers/subscribers/likers! I really do appreciate it. Encourages me to write more! Anyway, the first Occlumency lesson is similar to the books, but it's going to deviate afterwards . . . Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 7 – Occlumency**

Every third and fourth year in Slytherin were going home for the holiday, Harry found out at the last minute. And only two of the second years were staying, although, to be honestly, he hadn't talked to them at all. Thankfully, it turned out Malfoy was also going home, along with Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry, on the other hand, was staying at Hogwarts. Not that he minded. Hogwarts was his home, but _everyone_ was leaving. He was going to get stuck dodging Peeves and Snape all alone. _At least you won't be stuck in a small house with him,_ Harry thought.

Watching his classmates walk to the gate, Harry was reminded of Hogsmeade weekend again. He hadn't gone all term because he was sure Snape was going to say no. While thinking about the best way to ask, Snape came up behind him.

"Will you sign the permission slip for Hogsmeade?" Harry asked suddenly, surprising even himself. Well, there, he said it. Snape looked confused for a second before the man scowled at him.

"I need to talk to you, Tristan," Snape said, and Harry sighed as he followed the man. He knew it was pointless to ask. Snape led him once again to the sitting room and Harry sat, hoping it was news on Mr. Weasley. Sat sat across from him and stared at him again. It seemed like that was all Snape was able to do about him, lately. Probably hated him so much he was afraid he'd explode if he talked to him too much.

"I am going to be teaching you Occlumency," Snape finally said, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Occlu . . . what?"

"Occlumency." Snape sounded like teaching him Occlumency was the last thing he wanted to do, and Harry was in agreement with this. "It is an obscure branch of magic that will allow you to magically shield your mind from intrusion." Harry looked at Snape incredulously.

"And . . . why would I need that, sir?"

"Because," Snape said slowly. "The Headmaster believes it is necessary, with recent events."

"You mean when I – when I saw the snake attack Mr. Weasley. But . . . I'm not being possessed, am I? I'm just seeing things!"

"Seeing things when you're sleeping, when your mind is most vulnerable," the man nearly snapped, before he sat back, seeming to be contemplating something. "Things that could be planted into your mind, if the Dark Lord learns of the connection."

That stopped Harry short for a second. He hadn't really given it much thought as to what it meant. He had been too worried about Mr. Weasley.

"So, you have to teach me Occlum . . . _Occlumency_ so . . . Voldemort can't get into my head?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Snape said flatly. Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape.

"But I saw through the snake's eyes," Harry pointed out, and he saw he was getting Snape angry, and shut his mouth before he said anything more. Snape stood and went to the table, where Harry saw Dumbledore's pensieve, and he watched confused as Snape drew memories out and put them in.

"Stand," Snape said when he was finished.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, standing slowly. Snape had pulled out his wand and had a look on his face that was somewhere between hatred that he had to do this and . . . _happy_ that he was about to make Harry's life miserable.

"I am going to attempt to break in to your mind," Snape said, and Harry watched him cautiously.

"And how do I stop you?" Snape looked surprised that Harry asked, and he lowered his wand.

"You must clear your mind. Think of nothing. Let go of emotion." Harry looked at Snape incredulously. Let go of emotion? Just standing in the same room with Snape lately made him angry; their somewhat peaceful summer was just a fluke, Harry thought with a small pang. Snape lifted his wand again before Harry could process.

" _Legilimens,_ " Snape said quietly . . .

A six year old Harry was getting showered with dirt from Dudley jumping down the stairs . . . Uncle Vernon was encouraging a 8 year old Dudley to use him as a punching bag . . . an 11 year old Harry was sharing his chocolate frogs with Ron on the Hogwarts Express . . . Quirrel was burning from Harry's touch . . .

"NO!" Harry yelled. He found himself on the floor, with Snape looking down at him. Harry glared up at the man before standing.

"We'll do this again," Snape said, raising his wand. "Clear your mind." Snape paused this time and Harry _tried_ to think of nothing before the man said, " _Legilimens_."

Harry stood before an angry Uncle Vernon, who was yelling at him for doing something freaky to his precious Dudley's grades . . . Harry was standing above a hooded man on his knees . . .

"No!" Harry yelled, but his voice caught in his throat. He found himself on the floor again.

"What was that, Potter?" Harry glared at Snape, wondering what Snape would do if he just refused to stand up. More and more frequently, whenever they were alone, Snape had been calling him Potter, and he didn't know why it made him angrier.

"I don't . . . know," Harry finally answered truthfully. He was sure Snape was talking about the man, because he doubted the man cared about anything Dudley or Uncle Vernon did, but it only felt vaguely familiar. "A dream . . ." he guessed.

"Your nightmares," Snape said, and Harry just stood. "That should not be in your head. You _have_ to focus on clearing your mind!" Snape hissed. Harry held his ground.

"Its not like I can _stop_ my nightmares, can I? Because if I could, I wouldn't be having them."

"That's what Occlumency is for Potter!"

Harry just folded his arms stubbornly, then thought on what Snape said. "So, you're saying my nightmares aren't really nightmares?"

"Yes," Snape said dangerously, taking a few steps back and putting away his wand. "I think we've done enough for today. You will practice clearing your mind each night, and we will pick this up again in a few days. Go."

Harry didn't waste any time leaving.

* * *

Severus watched the boy leave, not pleased with how that went. The knowledge that Potter's dreams might not be dreams at all, but instead seeing through the Dark Lord's eyes was disturbing.

Because, he knew what that was. No, he didn't recognize the man, but he recognized the room, and the things that involved the Dark Lord were not things that a child should have to witness. Trying to focus on how to proceed, Severus pulled his memories from the pensieve.

Later that day, Severus was in the Headmaster's office, but Severus was not liking how the conversation was going. He had come to talk about Potter's problem, but Albus had other things on his mind.

"The boy can stay here," Severus said. "He managed to wheedle himself into Slytherin house and has been able to avoid his Gryffindor friends, which is probably how the boy hasn't been found out by now."

"But here, he would be left to his own devices. If I remember correctly, all of his classmates have gone home for the holidays," Albus said, leaning back in his chair and folding hands in front of his chest. "And you've said yourself, a bored Harry is _not_ a good thing."

"I'll encourage him to talk to children from other houses," Severus said, not backing down.

"You won't be here."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the old man. "No, I won't. I don't see how sending _me_ for this work is a good idea. Potter has to learn Occlumency, and if the Dark Lord calls?"

"You'll know what you'll need to do to prepare for the eventualities, Severus, and you know more about the muggle world more than nearly anyone else in the Order. Arthur was a possibility, but even without the attack, you still would be a better choice. As for Harry, you can give him a time table of techniques to practice. Different ways to clear his mind. What works for you might not work for him." Albus sat, contemplating. "He does have trouble containing his anger. Much like you, at one point."

"Do not compare me to the boy," Severus said. "We are nothing alike."

"No, not much, but enough," the man said. "But perhaps you are beginning to care for the boy?"

Severus glared. "When do I leave?"

"Oh, a couple days should be enough time to prepare, I think. Perhaps contact Molly and let her know that you would appreciate Tristan being somewhere safe for the holidays while you are not at Hogwarts. She would be pleased you thought of her." Albus paused. "I do believe I will be informing Sirius myself, though."

Severus didn't repeat what he thought of Black knowing the secret.

* * *

Harry did try to clear his mind the previous night, but left alone all day to think about Occlumency didn't actually help him. In fact, since Snape pulled that memory of the dream, bits and pieces of the nightmares had begun to come to him throughout the day, and by that night he couldn't stop thinking about that door in his dreams. And, last night, between screams and firing wands, he kept finding himself trying to see what was behind that door at the end of the corridor.

Snape seemed to think his dreams might not be dreams. Which meant the dreams were at least partially true. Harry didn't want to think about what that meant.

The Great Hall was nearly empty when he arrived for breakfast. He sat close to some of the older Slytherins, sixth years, who greeted him cheerfully. Everyone seemed happy for the holidays, and he found it put him in even worse of a mood. He was almost relieved when Snape came up behind him and asked to talk to him.

In Snape's office, where Harry was beginning to not be as disturbed by the floating things in jars, Harry sat down and eyed his false-father suspiciously. Snape did say they wouldn't work on Occlumency for a few days, but Harry wouldn't put it past the man to decide otherwise.

"I am leaving Hogwarts for a couple week," Snape said, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "Albus believes it would be best for you to not stay at Hogwarts, either."

"We're going back to your house?" Harry asked.

"No. I . . . will being doing work for the Order. I have talked to Molly Weasley, and you will be going, as Tristan, to the Order Headquarters to stay with them while I am gone."

"I get to stay with Sirius?" Harry asked, excitedly. "Wait, I'll be going as Tristan. No one knows, though, do they?" What originally started out sounding great wasn't sounding that wonderful anymore.

"No, and they can't. The Weasleys believe they are doing me a favor by watching you. Black will be there, yes, but he knows the importance of not ruining your cover. Do not talk freely with him unless he gives you the word that it is safe." Harry sighed, and Snape slid a book across the desk to him.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"I am under the impression that . . ." Snape paused, sneering, "you have trouble controlling your emotions. I cannot give you a book on Occlumency. Even if there were decent ones that didn't also focus on Legilimency, it would be too suspicious. This book focuses on . . . _meditation_ , but the ideas are similar. I expect you to be able to clear your mind by the time I am back." Snape stared at him, and Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said, deciding to wait until he was out of Snape's presence to look at the book. Meditation didn't sound too bad. "So . . . Ron and the twins and everyone is at the headquarters?"

"Yes. Albus believes it would be best." It seemed to Harry that Snape didn't agree, and Harry was almost siding with Snape. He would get to spend more time with Sirius, but at the same time, he wouldn't. He'd have to deal with the twins, because he was sure they would try to pull pranks on him. He was probably going to have to spend his time avoiding them, instead of hanging out with them. Harry sighed again. This whole Snape's-son thing was turning out to be the worst idea the Headmaster has ever had.

Snape sat there staring at him, his face unreadable, before he finally slid over a parcel. The man looked uncomfortable. "Since I will not be around for Christmas, I will give this to you now. You may open it when you please. It will . . . hopefully . . . distract you." Harry looked from the parcel to Snape a few times.

"Er . . ." Was _Snape_ giving him a Christmas gift? Harry felt befuddled until he realized that his friends would probably ask him what his dad got him for his birthday. Until they realized that the Dursleys had no intention of sending him gifts, Ron and Hermione used to ask. Still, _Snape_ got him a _gift_. "Thank you, sir," Harry said honestly. He felt himself turn red, but Snape merely nodded.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Harry decided he should leave before he and Snape started arguing again.

"Was there anything else, sir?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape answered, standing. Harry followed suit. "I will be dropping you off later today. Stay in your dorm or common room so I can find you. I expect you to behave. Do not get into trouble. And focus on your studies. You could be doing better in all your classes." Snape ushered him out of his office, not sounding as harsh as he usually would when talking about how awful Harry did in his classwork.

It took longer than usual for Harry to make his way from Snape's office to the the Slytherin common room because he couldn't stop thinking about the upcoming weeks. Really, though, was there any reason that he couldn't get to know his friends from Tristan's point of view? If he was nice – which Harry intended to be, anyway – maybe they would overlook the fact that he was a Slytherin.

And Snape's son.

In the common room, Harry put down the parcel and the meditation book on one of the couches, sitting next to them. He picked up the meditation one, first, still not sure what to do about the gift from Snape. His professor hadn't wrapped it like a gift, but as if he was going to send it off with a couple of owls, but it was wrapped just the same. Shaking his head, Harry flipped through the book in his hands. There were bits on what meditation was good for, history on meditation, wizards and witches that practiced meditation . . . it wasn't until near the middle that there was anything useful.

 _Meditation Techniques_ the chapter was called, and skimming over it, he saw that there were ways to think of nothing – like putting everything you were thinking about in a jar and putting that on a shelf, which seemed ridiculous to Harry – to instead focusing on one thing, like an image or a sound or something. That seemed a little better to Harry, who didn't think he could _ever_ think of _nothing_.

Deciding that was what he was going to do, Harry put the book aside. He wasn't in any sort of mood to clear his mind or think about anything Occlumency or school work or anything. It was the beginning of the holiday, and he wanted to do something fun. Unfortunately, the only game he had that he could play, he was sick of, and he was stuck in the common room. Which left Harry staring at the gift from Snape, wondering if he should open it now.

Snape _did_ say he was welcome to open it whenever he wanted.

Making his decision, Harry pulled the parcel closer to him and opened it to find five books like the ones Harry had read over the summer. Harry smiled. At least it was something to do.


	9. Chapter 8 - Christmas

**A/N: Christmas! Tristan's first big encounter with his old friends. Molly had a big talk with her kids before Tristan arrived, so I think that helped . . . Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 8 - Christmas**

Snape stopped by the Slytherin common room shortly before lunch; any earlier, Harry wouldn't have been ready because he didn't realize he needed to pack until half an hour ago. As usual, Harry was surprised at how much he managed to spread out when he didn't actually own that much.

They took a portkey, much to Harry's dismay, and Harry found himself in the hall of Sirius' house. Mrs. Weasley came out of the kitchen immediately, and, unfortunately, the rest of the Weasleys followed suit to see what was going on.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Hello," Harry answered, looking up at Snape, who just nodded at him. Mrs. Weasley, who must have thought that they wanted to say goodbye, told Tristan to come straight to the kitchen when his father left to join them for lunch before shooing everyone back into the kitchen.

"Remember what I told you," Snape said.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, looking over his shoulder down the hall, and Snape disappeared to wherever he was going. Deciding that he should just get this over with, Harry walked to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. The kitchen was decorated for Christmas, and there were more than just the Weasleys there: Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, and some young woman Harry didn't recognize.

"Well, come in, Tristan," Mrs. Weasley said, pointing to a seat at the long table next to Fred. "We'll get you situated with a place to sleep after lunch. Everybody, I don't know if you've met Tristan, Severus' son. He'll be staying with us for a couple weeks until Severus gets back."

There were a some quiet 'hello's around the table, to which Harry replied as he sat cautiously next to Fred. Across from him was Sirius, who gave him a small smile, and Lupin, who winked at him. He tried to smile back as he wondered if Lupin also knew.

"So, _Tristan_ ," Fred said from next to him. "Son of the Slytherin House . . ."

"Have you gotten in any fights with any of the Gryffindors yet?" George continued.

"Because, we haven't heard much about you."

"No," Harry said slowly, trying to decide what he was going to say. "I only have Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, in any case, and they seem alright. The Ravenclaws are horrible though. What house are you in?" Harry tried to act like he didn't know them outside of meeting them than one time during the summer.

"We're all in Gryffindor," Ginny said, giving her brothers a glare. "How are the Ravenclaws awful? I have a friend in Ravenclaw."

Harry shrugged, feeling like he messed up already. But he already started, so . . . "Well, the ones in my class are horrible," he mumbled. "I don't mean anything against your friend."

"I was just wondering," Ginny said back.

"Now, children, let's get along," Mrs. Weasley said. "Christmas is tomorrow, and we don't need any fighting."

Harry ate while listening to everyone chat around him. It seemed Mr. Weasley was still in the hospital because they haven't found anything to counteract the venom yet. The woman turned out to be Tonks, who could change her face at will, which Harry found interesting. A Metamorphmagus, she said, and Harry wondered if someone could learn to do that, like they could learn to become an animagus.

After lunch, Mrs. Weasley led Harry upstairs to a room with two beds, floating his trunk behind them. "This'll be your room," she said. "Hope you don't mind having a room to yourself. If you'd rather have a roommate-"

"This is fine," Harry said quickly. "I'm used to having my own room when I'm not at school." Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Well, I'll let you get settled. I'll call you for dinner. We'll be decorating the house the rest of the day, if you wanted to help. Best not to wander off alone, though. There might still be a few rooms we haven't gotten . . . clean yet. And best to be quiet, too. There's portrait in the hall that will scream if you wake it up. Can't get rid of it."

Mrs. Weasley wandered off, leaving Harry alone in the room. He decided to just read while he waited for dinner, not sure he was ready to be alone with any of the others. He did think about going to look for Sirius, but figured it was too early and there was still time.

The next day after lunch, the Weasleys and Hermione went to St. Mungos to visit Mr. Weasley, escorted by Mad-Eye and Tonks, leaving Harry alone with Sirius and Lupin. They were in the kitchen, and Harry was picking at the rest of his food when everyone left, wishing he could see Mr. Weasley, too.

"So, _Tristan_ ," Sirius said, with a smile on his face. Harry wasn't sure he ever saw his godfather this happy before. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Harry said with a sigh. "Is Mr. Weasley going to be alright?"

"They're working on it," Lupin said. "He's awake and talking, they just don't know how to stop the venom, and its not letting the wound close."

Harry nodded, looking between Sirius and Lupin, wondering again if Professor Lupin knew.

"Don't worry, _Tristan_ ," Sirius said, and Harry hoped that he wouldn't continue to emphasize his name when there were others around. It might make everyone suspicious. "Remus knows. No one else, but Dumbledore said I could tell him." Remus gave him a smile, and Harry made a note that he looked a little worse for wear than he did two years ago. Still, it was nice seeing them. "How is Snape treating you? Need me to hex him or anything?"

"No!" Harry said. "No, its fine." Harry had a feeling that if he said anything bad about Snape, it might start a fight when Snape got back, and that's the last thing Harry needed to deal with: Snape angry at him for telling their fights to Sirius. "He even got me a Christmas gift."

"What? Its not Dark Arts books or anything like that, is it?" Sirius whispered, and Harry shook his head. Lupin laughed next to him.

" _No_ , just some books to read. Like, stories. Not school books. They're good."

"Oh, you like to read, Tristan?" Lupin asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Not much else to do sometimes." Harry talked with the two adults for a long time before Sirius gave him a present.

"It's from both of us," Sirius explained, and Harry opened it eagerly to find a set of books on Defense.

"Great!" Harry said. "Defense is my favorite class, and Umbridge isn't teaching us anything," Harry said. "Well, I know I've already _had_ the class, but it'd be nice to at least be able to do _something_ but read the book and listen to her talk on. Thanks!"

A few hours later, Harry was in the sitting room, reading one of the books Snape had given him. He opted to put the book from Sirius and Lupin in his trunk to look over when he was back at Hogwarts, just in case anyone decided to ask him where he got it. He heard everyone coming back into the house, but he stayed where he was. He didn't have a reason to go greet them, not as Tristan, did he? Harry thought on that bitterly. At least he knew he could count on Sirius or Lupin for updates.

As everyone started to trickle into the sitting room, Harry shifted uncomfortably. The twins, because obviously they had nothing better to do than bug him, sat on either side of him, and they threw their arms around his neck. Knowing them, that was never a good sign.

"So, we've been discussing it, our young friend," George said.

"And we've come to the decision that we are going to let you help us," Fred continued.

"See," George said, a bit quieter, "we have these . . . _products_ we need to test."

"And we think it would be _great_ if you joined us."

"Er . . ." Harry said, looking between the two of them. He had a bad feeling that these _products_ were in fact pranks that they've most likely been working on with the winnings he had given them right before summer. He was almost regretting it now.

"You two stop it," Hermione said, walking straight toward them as she came into the room. "You should ignore them, Tristan," she continued, talking to him. "They're only going to cause trouble."

"Hermione!" George said.

"You hurt us!" But they stood up and, for the moment, left Harry alone.

"They're nice, they really are," Hermione said. "But they _really_ like to play jokes on people. And well . . . being Slytherin . . ." Hermione looked ashamed to say it. "Just be careful around them, okay?" She went by Ginny, who had pulled out a card game, and Ron and the twins were talking quietly to themselves, although they did keep looking over at him. Annoyed, Harry went back to his book. With a small amount of amusement, though, Harry thought about the look on their faces when Harry finally told them.

A few days later, Harry found himself in the kitchen, his Arithmancy book and charts spread out on the table. He tried studying in his room, but it wasn't that comfortable on the floor, and there wasn't a lot of table space except in the kitchen. His last few assignments he did for the class had gone horrible, and he was trying to figure out the reason. Well, the reason in addition to he had let himself get distracted in class and hadn't been listening. At the moment, though, he just kind of found himself staring at the mess on the table. Arithmancy just didn't appeal to him.

"Oh, hullo, Tristan," Bill said, startling Harry. Bill hadn't been around the last couple days, so he was one of the last people he expected to be there. "Studying hard?"

"Ugh, I just don't get this stuff," Harry said dismally. "Dad made me take the class. I don't even know what its good for!"

"Arithmancy?" the Weasley asked, sitting down across from him. "Lots of stuff, actually. I use it quite a bit in curse breaking."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Isn't curse breaking, like, counter curses and stuff like that?"

"Well, some, but not all curses are going to be hexes and charms. Some are enforced by potions, some are spelled by runes. Others, numbers. It really depends on who did the curse and what their specialty is. So, you kind of have to know it all."

"Oh," Harry said.

"So, what are you having trouble with?"

Harry just stared at the his notes glumly. This is what he needed Hermione for. Bill seem to take pity on him, though, and walked him through a few of the assignments. By the end, he was understanding it a lot better. He didn't know how he'd do on his next assignment without Bill, but at least he understood his old assignments.

"Thanks," Harry said as Bill stood.

"No, problem, kid. Let me know if you need anymore help."

Gathering up his schoolwork, Harry left the kitchen and headed for the stairs when he thought he heard someone saying his name. Well, Harry, not Tristan. Curious, because he hadn't heard talk of himself once his entire stay there, Harry went closer to the mostly-closed door to listen.

"I still can't believe Harry just _left_ like that, you know. Letters aren't much," he heard Ron say.

"Ron, it'll be _fine_. I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't just let him go back to the muggle world, just like that," Hermione answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I overheard your mum and Mad-Eye a couple of days ago-"

"You were _eavesdropping_? Why did you tell me?"

"Ron! Anyway, I overheard them talking about Harry. They _say_ he's going to a private muggle school, but they also say that you-know-who is looking for him. A muggle school doesn't hold much protection, now does it? I think this is all a plan to keep Harry _safe_. So, don't worry about it. He's probably being taught his studies by _someone_ in the Order."

"Who cares about his _studies_?" Ron asked. "I just miss him." The two were quiet for a bit, and Harry was about to creep toward to the stairs when Ron spoke up.

"Hey, you don't think that, what's his name, _Tristan_ is . . ." Harry bit his lip to keep from making any noise.

"Well . . . I thought so, at first, you know? When Professor Snape first showed up with him during the summer. But I looked into it. Tristan has a _history_. An awful long one. Well, his mum does, anyway. Not that she's in any books or anything, but I was able to look into records-"

"You sneaked a look at _Ministry Records_?" Ron asked, sounding amazed. "Hermione, you're amazing!"

"Ron, quiet! Look, I was able to get a look at the records. Everything adds up, at least as far as I can see. I mean, _maybe_ Dumbledore was able to pull some strings, but . . . even that seems a bit far fetched. That thick of a file . . . you don't just go making that up quickly, you know?"

"Oh," Ron said. "Well, it was a thought."

 _Yeah_ , Harry thought. _That was a thought. I'm going to have to be super careful, if Hermione and Ron suspect anything_. Before anyone could come out the door or down the hall, Harry quietly climbed the stairs and made it to his room. The only pictures on the wall, usually empty when he was in the room, held Phineas Nigellus, and Harry glared at it, remembering there was one in Dumbledore's office, too.

And Voldemort was looking for him? He guessed he shouldn't be surprised, but this was the first time he'd heard of it.

The rest of the two weeks went slowly. Hermione had helped him with Runes a bit (she just happen to be studying Runes herself at the time, and Hermione had gone on about how it was good that _someone_ besides her was studying during the holiday, because _Ron_ certainly wasn't, and she had gone on about how Ron was going to _regret_ it when the exams came around), he made a list of potions ingredients from potions they were studying that year (Snape was _bound_ to ask him more question in class, and Harry decided he should at least recognize the names of the ingredients, even if he didn't remember much about a few of them), and he tried to practice some techniques for clearing his mind.

It was all well and good – the mind-clearing – during the day, when he had the book in front of him. He liked the method of focusing on one thing, but he was having trouble finding something he could focus on for any length of time without something distracting him. And when it came to bedtime, he honestly did _try_ to clear his mind, but lying down on the bed, all Harry could think about was Voldemort and the dreams he'd been having and wanting to find out what was behind that _door_. And although he didn't particularly like having the nightmares, he couldn't stop thinking about them, either. And even though he tried to think about the proper way to hold his wand or the dancing steps in a wizarding waltz, he couldn't focus on them, and he'd find himself in the dream again.

The twins had, amazingly, kept their distance except for teasing him a bit (although their glances from their huddles still made Harry suspicious), Ron and Ginny hadn't said but a few words to him, and he didn't get a lot of chances to talk to Sirius because there were always people around, which Harry felt bad about, because coming up to the end of his stay, Sirius had become very withdrawn. Lupin wasn't around very often, either, so Harry spent most of his time alone.

His last day of his stay at Grimmauld Place, Harry found himself in the kitchen with Sirius, who was bouncing back and forth between cheerful and grumpy. Harry sat next to his trunk, reading one of the books Snape had given him, occasionally looking up at Sirius as he wandered through the room; he honestly didn't know what to say because he knew any of the others could come into the room at any time.

Harry only knew Snape had arrived because he had looked up to see if Sirius was doing any better. Instead, he saw Sirius and Snape glaring at each other; Harry froze, not sure if he should do anything. With how they were looking at each other, he wasn't sure they were going to get out of the kitchen alive.

"Come, Tristan, we're leaving. Black, tell Molly I've collected him," Snape said, a sneer obvious in his voice.

"Now, hold on," Sirius said, angry and bounding up to the potions professor before he had a chance to turn around. Snape went for his wand, and Sirius did the same. Nervous, Harry stood. "This is my house, I think I'm the one who will tell people what to do, not you."

"You have no say in what I ask _my son_ to do, Black," Snape said dangerously. "The only reason he stayed here was work for the _Order_ , and Molly and Arther are staying here. What sort of work have you found _yourself_ doing, Black? Are you at least cooking food and cleaning cupboards while you _hide_ in your _mother's_ house?"

Harry saw what was happening before Snape had finished talking and was between the two adults before he realized he had stood. And it was a good thing, too, because they both had their wands pointing over Harry's head at each other's faces.

"What is going on here?" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley ask, and Harry gave a sigh of relief, but didn't budge despite the men dropping their wands. Thankfully, they were in the doorway, and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have been able to see much, but Snape grabbed Harry's arm, levitated his trunk and book he had left on the table and pulled him out of the kitchen.

"Thank you, Molly, for taking care of Tristan in my absence. We will be going, now."

"We loved having him. If you're sure you don't want to stay for dinner . . ." Mrs. Weasley said, looking between Snape and Sirius.

"I'm sure," Snape said, glaring at Sirius, then continued to pull Harry to the door. As soon as they were on the front step, Snape handed Harry his book, took hold of the trunk and apparated with everything.

Harry found himself outside Hogwarts' gates with Snape glaring at him.

"Why would you place yourself between two adult wizards with wands pointed at each other?" he asked darkly, and Harry shrugged. Snape must not have thought that was an answer, become he continued to glare.

"I didn't think," he answered truthfully. "I just didn't want you both to hex each other."

"So you stand in the crossfire?" Snape spat?

"Would you have cursed him with me in the way?" Harry asked, ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him not to yell back at Snape. Snape's expression got dangerous, and Harry took a few steps backwards, tripping over his trunk and landing on his back, his head knocking hard enough on the ground that he saw dark spots for a few moments.

It was several more moments before he realized Snape was by his side, calling his name.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, the word feeling strange in his mouth. He closed his eyes tight when Snape put a lit wands in his face, but the man forced his eyes open. Seemingly satisfied, Snape seemed content to wait until he was ready to stand, and he even helped Harry up when he started standing.

"Do you feel alright?" Snape finally asked, and Harry nodded. Snape didn't look like he believed him.

"My head hurts a little," he admited.

"I will give you a potion for that before you clean up for dinner," Snape said gently pushing him toward the gate. Harry looked at him suspiciously - the man's anger seemed to have disappeared suddenly, but Harry wasn't sure he wasn't going to get yelled at as soon as they got to Snape's office. "Go," he said, and Harry walked unsteadily toward the castle.


	10. Chapter 9 - Trouble

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews! Also, sorry for the late updating . . . been on a train the last couple days and didn't have a way to update. Anyway, I think Snape's starting to care a bit more for Harry, although if asked, he'd probably deny it . . . But anyway, I think this is the beginning of the good stuff, at least for this school year :) Crazy times. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 9 - Trouble**

It was the end of dinner that Harry found himself alone at the Slytherin table, wishing for the next term to start. The other students were coming back in a little over a week, and he realized he couldn't wait to see Lucus and Wyatt. Standing slowly, Harry left the Great Hall and headed toward the dungeons, wondering what Snape was doing. After making sure he wasn't hurt after his fall, Snape left him at the Entrance Hall. Not that Harry wanted Snape around.

Harry wandered aimlessly for a bit before he realized he was lost. He wasn't completely sure how it happened, because he now knew the way to the Slytherin common room with his eyes closed, but he wasn't near the common room. In fact, he wasn't even near the dungeons. He wasn't completely sure, but if he had to guess, he would say he was on the 6th floor. _Great,_ Harry thought, wondering how easily he would be able to find his way back.

Trouble was, now that he was standing in the middle of the corridor, outside an abandoned classroom he didn't recognize, Harry couldn't remember which way he had come from. In fact, it wasn't until he saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout coming toward him, looking angry, did he realize he was standing in a mess, but it took even longer for him to realize that he had a sponge, covered in red, in his hand, and there was writing on the wall in front of him, and red puddles on the floor, but he couldn't focus enough to read what it said. He also knew McGonagall was saying something to him, a look of anger and strong disapproval written plainly on her face.

Harry tried to say he wasn't sure what was going on, but instead McGonagall started walking away and Spout nudged him forward. Confused, he followed, wondering how he got into this situation.

His dad . . . Snape . . . was waiting for them when they arrived at McGonagall's office. Harry's head was starting to clear a bit, but he still wasn't sure why his three professors were just staring at him. Did they ask him a question?

"He seems confuddled," he heard Sprout say, but didn't see her talking.

"Perhaps," his dad said. "Tristan, do you remember what happened?" Harry just stared at him.

"It seems someone has cursed him, but I'm afraid I don't recognized the curse," McGonagall said, and Harry remembered he was holding a sponge. Slowly, he looked down at it and dropped it abruptly, hoping it was paint, not blood. He felt himself start to get sick at the thought, and he found himself puking into a bucket on the floor.

"Tristan," his dad said, kneeling next to him, pulling up his chin and looking into his eyes. "It seems to be clearing," he continued, but Harry thought it might not be towards him. "Let's sit him down." His dad helped him, much to slowly, into a chair, and it felt like forever that Harry understood that there were now only two professors, and they were waiting for the curse to wear off.

He couldn't remember anyone cursing him. He couldn't even remembering seeing anyone since he had left the Great Hall.

"Tristan," his dad . . . _Snape_ . . . said again, and this time Harry looked up at him.

"What happened?" sas all Harry managed to say, his eyes finding the red sponge on the floor. It did look to be paint, at least. It was the wrong shade of red for blood.

"We were hoping you could tell us," McGongall said, and Harry shook his head.

"I left the Great Hall and . . ." Harry continued to shake his head, "I don't know. Did I paint on the wall?"

"It's nothing," Snape said. "It's being cleaned up as we speak. You don't remember anyone cursing you?" Harry shook his head again, and McGonagall sighed. Harry suddenly realized what his professors caught him doing.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked warily.

"As you appeared to be cursed, no, you're not in trouble. Anything you could remember would be helpful in finding who did this to you, though," his Transfiguration professor said, and Harry shook his head again.

"I don't even really remember how I got _here_ ," he said. "It's all kind of fuzzy, like I . . . just woke up."

"I'm going to take him to the Hospital Wing," Snape said.

"Yes, of course. I will let you know if I find anything."

"What did it say?" Harry asked, wondering if he had somehow been possessed, like Ginny with Tom Riddle. Snape looked down at him, guiding him with a hand on his back, and Harry found it somewhat comforting . . . an awkward thought.

"Never mind, that. Did anyone say anything to you? Threaten you?" Snape asked.

"No . . ." Harry said slowly. Snape stopped him and grabbed his chin.

"Tristan," he said with warning in his voice. "Did something happen?"

"No . . ." Harry said again, but couldn't get the thought out of his mind. "But the Ravenclaws-"

"This again?" Snape asked, and Harry felt himself get angry that the man was dismissing it again. "Do you have any proof?" Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without getting angry. "Then why do you think it's them?" Harry stared at Snape for a minute, trying to think of something that could be evidence, but all he ever got from them was glares and whispers. Eventually, at Snape's impatient look, Harry shrugged, and Snape sighed. They started walking again, and Harry finally trusted himself to speak.

"I really do think it's them, though. They hate me." Snape just urged him forward. "I feel better now, though, really."

"You are still going to the Hospital Wing."

After Madam Pomfrey checked him over, Harry went back to his dorm and thought about what happened. He had been real careful during first term to avoid any possible pranks, and had been careless after he got back. And Snape still didn't believe him.

His mind wandered to Wyatt's book, which he had left with Harry for the holiday. Maybe it was time that he thought about getting them back. Problem was, he _was_ sure Snape would kill him for causing trouble, but it wouldn't hurt to look through the book more, would it?

The book was called _Practical Magic for the Unordinary Wizard_ , and had everything from charms to potions. The potions were what interested Harry the most, as strange as that thought was from him. But, if he delivered it correctly, who would be able to suspect it was him? He _was_ only in third year, and that book had several ingredients and techniques he hadn't heard of before, and as Harry, he had already gone through his fifth.

Slowly, Harry paged through the potion section of the book. There was an unbreakable sticking potion - which Harry figured was a bit drastic at this point, although the thought was amusing - a few potions for cleaning things - which seemed out of place in the book - a burning potion . . . Harry sighed and put the book away. Planning was a lot more fun with Wyatt around.

Looking at the time, Harry saw there was still a couple of hours until curfew, so Harry decided to go for a walk, figuring that the Ravenclaws might think he was still in trouble, and wouldn't have anything else planned for the day. Harry found he liked wandering the dungeons when he couldn't go outside; probably mostly because it was cooler than the rest of the castle.

Harry found himself walking past Snape's office as Snape walked out of it, and Harry froze. The man merely looked at him before closing the door, and they both stood in the corridor for a few moments. Harry still didn't know what to make of the Potions professor. There were times were it was still obvious that the man hated him, and other times - like today, when he didn't get in trouble for whatever it was he wrote on the wall or when he got hurt- where Snape almost seemed like he was on his side.

"Tristan, come with me," Snape said and Harry sighed as he followed him. Usually when Snape wanted to talk to him, it was to yell at him for not doing as well in class as he should. And, well, Harry had to admit that he hadn't tried very hard in Arithmancy, which got him behind - he really wasn't interested in the class - he was sure he was doing well in the rest of his classes. Well enough that several of his classmates would come to him for help, like he used to go to Hermione. Already taking most of the classes helped, and he found he liked Ancient Runes, so he almost enjoyed the classwork on that.

Snape had led him to his office and Harry sat in the seat in front of the desk as the man sat down across from him. His professor stared at him, making Harry uncomfortable, and he decided to just look down at his lap.

"I have checked in with your other professors for your progress in your classes," Snape said, and Harry had to stop himself from groaning. He knew Snape was going to be berating him for his schoolwork again. Snape didn't continue, and Harry looked up to see the man was observing him closely again. "Except in Arithmancy, you are currently at the top of your classes, as you should be, for having taken the classes already. I expect you to stay at that level, in addition to increasing the quality of your Arithmancy classwork." Snape paused again, and Harry just waited. There had to be something else, Harry was sure of it and he wondered how awful it was going to be.

"I was approached by Professor Flitwick today. Tomorrow, he wishes to test your current knowledge of third year Charms, and if you do well enough, he would like to move you to fourth year Charms." Snape paused. "I debated as to whether this was a good idea, but when he tests you, do as well as you can. With Tristan being homeschooled by a mother who excelled in charms, it would make sense that that would be her focus on your schooling . . . I may, in fact, do the same for Potions."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape when he understood that he wanted to have him go to 4th year potions instead of 3rd year potions. "You keep saying I'm horrible at potions. You always say my potion isn't good enough in class."

"Doing reasonably well is no excuse for not doing better," Snape said. "You have a very rare opportunity, going through these classes again. You could, instead of staying at the level of your peers, use the opportunity to improve on the knowledge you are learning. I tire of your lack of interest in your schooling."

"It's only third year," Harry pointed out without thinking. "Its not like the grades mean anything if I pass, do they?" At Snape's angry look, Harry regretted saying it. He didn't know why his mouth thought it was okay to talk to Snape that way.

It took awhile for Snape to calm down, and Harry was surprised his professor wasn't yelling at him. Confusingly, Snape's anger seemed to slowly turn into something Harry hadn't seen before.

"I suppose you haven't had an adult take interest in your school work before," Snape said slowly. Harry didn't answer, not exactly sure how to answer that, but Snape seemed to be waiting for a response.

"No," he said, not wanting to go into how he Dursleys wouldn't like it if he got any acknowledgment at school - for good behavior or bad - and if he ever said anything about Hogwarts, they probably would have thrown him in his cupboard for the entire summer without food. Harry watched Snape carefully, not sure where this was going. He wasn't sure Snape knew either, because they sat there, Harry staring at his lap while feeling Snape keeping his eyes on Harry.

"School is not about scores, its about learning and preparing for your future," Snape said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. "You need to get into the habit now. It will play a large part of your . . . work ethic when you are an adult. As it is now, you will find yourself working in a shop because of your lack of effort. Have you given any thought into as to what you would like to do after Hogwarts?"

Harry had to admit that he didn't, but he was pretty sure his classmates - even his 5th year classmates - hadn't thought about it when he had talked to them last. Maybe Hermione. Harry look at Snape, who appeared to be waiting for an answer again.

"No," answered. "I don't even know what kind of jobs there are, really," he said, trying to defend himself.

"We will discuss that at a future time, but keep it in mind." Snape stopped, but Harry could tell he was still going to say something and Harry waited. "We must also talk about how you tend to run into danger instead of away from it." Harry had to stop himself from sighing. Snape stopped talking again, but Harry wasn't sure if he should say something, and even what he should say. He avoided the man's eyes.

It seemed like an eternity before he spoke again. "Your problem seems to be that you don't think about it. You seem to think that you're the only one who can solve the danger you find yourself in. You have made it out, relatively unscathed each time and are heralded a hero each time, so you continue to look for dangerous situations."

"I don't go looking for dangerous situations," Harry said, sitting up straight. "They find me -"

"And have you told an adult when these situations find you?"

"Yes! Harry said. "First year, we told Professor McGonagall, and second year we went to the teachers lounge to tell everyone where the entrance was, but then you told Lockhart . . ." Harry trailed off at Snape's look.

"You never came to the teachers lounge," Snape said slowly.

"Er . . . me and Ron did," Harry answered, now afraid he was going to get in trouble for something that happened over two years ago. "But then the alarm started and we were afraid we were going to get in trouble and we hid in the cupboard, and then you sent Lockhart to take care of the situation, so . . ." Harry trailed off again. Snape should know the rest.

"Yes, and if I remember, you had kept several key bits of information to yourself during several attacks that year."

"I was hearing voices," Harry said. Snape still looked angry, but at least he wasn't dwelling on the same thing. "That's not something you go around telling people without them thinking you're crazy, or at least making it up."

"It is something you tell the _many_ adults around you when you're twelve years old," he said flatly. "Especially after learning you are a parselmouth." Harry sighed, knowing he wasn't going to convince Snape he had no other choice. "Fourth year, you did have no choice, but what about your third year?"

Harry stayed quiet. He wasn't going to talk about Sirius with Snape, not with those two ready to curse each others' heads off being in the same room for less than a minute.

"Nothing?" Snape asked. "I suppose you've gotten used to your hero status by then and didn't want it to end," he continued, but Harry wasn't going to let the man goad him. "In any case, your first instinct must be to talk to an adult any time you see anything out of the ordinary." By Snape's look, he didn't seem to think he was capable of that, and Harry felt his anger fuel.

Snape seemed to have said enough of the matter for the moment, though, because he stayed quiet, observing Harry.

"Have you been practicing clearing your mind?"

"Yes," Harry said, glad they moved onto a different subject, even if it was Occlumency. Snape narrowed his eyes.

"We'll see." Snape said, standing. Harry took a few moments to try to think about what he should focus on, but in Snape's office, all he could think about was potions ingredients, so he decided to focus on what the slimy-looking red and green thing in the jar directly behind Snape's seat was. Slowly, Harry stood, trying to remember what it looked like before looking away. Turning to face Snape, Harry found the man staring at him with a blank expression on his face. " _Legilimens_."

Harry found himself able to focus on the color of the three-eyes creature for a few moments before he started wavering. Trying to hold onto it, Harry found himself simply thinking about the blackness of the middle eye, because it didn't really look like an eye; it seemed wilted even though the creature was floating in the jar. Even that image started to fade away from him . . .

Eleven year old Harry was on a bucking broomstick, trying to hold on as best as he could . . .

Harry found himself being held up by Snape at the elbow, realizing he felt like he was going to pass out. Snape must have somehow known this because his professor led him to his seat and Harry had the sudden urge to put his head down on the desk.

"We'll have to take this in steps," Snape said slowly, and Harry realized he didn't see the man sit down. "Legilimency is taxing on the body, more so for someone who is thirteen." Harry didn't have the energy to point out he was actually fifteen. "Especially for how hard I had to push to enter your mind. I am pleased you have taken the assignment seriously. Continue what you have been doing. We will try again in a couple days." Snape paused again. "The eventual goal is to be able to employ Occlumency during day to day activities - like conversations - without intense focus."

Harry looked at Snape with disbelief. He had trouble keeping Snape out of his mind with all his energy and focus, how would he be able to keep him out talking with him?

Snape conjured a glass of water and set it in front of him, which Harry took a sip automatically and sighed. "It will get easier if you keep practicing," Snape said. "But it's going to be a lot harder than it would be were you still fifteen." Snape looked at him hard. "You should eat better than you've been eating. Extra helpings of fruits and vegetables should help a bit. I notice you usually eat meat and sandwiches, and not a lot else besides."

Harry gave Snape a incredulous look. Snape was going to tell him how to eat, now, too?

"Are you better?" Snape asked, and Harry nodded. "Go to bed."

Harry left without another word, not sure how to take their conversation that night.


	11. Chapter 10 - The Ravenclaws

**A/N: Hello! Thanks again for all the reviews! Not much to say but 'hope you enjoy'!**

 **Chapter 10 – The Ravenclaws**

The next morning, it was rough getting out of bed. He didn't actually hurt anywhere, but at the same time, it almost felt as if he did. To make matters worse, the Ravenclaws in his year all turned to look at him when he entered the Great Hall, looking furious. Harry would have been more upset if that hadn't further solidified his belief that it was the Ravenclaws trying to get him.

Sitting down at the mostly-empty Slytherin table, Harry looked over the food in front of him. Eggs, bacon, ham . . . the usual breakfast stuff, nothing fancy. Looking up at the Head Table, he saw Snape there staring at him and Harry went back to deciding what he wanted to eat. He grabbed his usual - eggs and bacon and toast - but with another look at the Head Table, he piled some of the fresh cut fruit onto his plate with a sigh. He supposed if it helped him not feel that awful in the morning, he'd give in to Snape. But it wasn't because Snape told him to.

A few minutes later, Harry found himself enjoying the fruit - except the melon - as Malfoy sat down next to him. Harry looked up, annoyed and surprised the Slytherin was there. Malfoy seemed to take his expression as the latter.

"My dad dropped me off early," he explained. "They're going to Italy today." Harry nodded, wishing Malfoy would leave, but knowing he wouldn't. There wasn't much in the way of Slytherins there that morning. "Are you enjoying Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, seeing Snape still watching him and figured he should at least pretend he liked Malfoy. Malfoy, though, didn't seem convinced and took his tone to mean he wasn't liking Hogwarts instead of the forlorn Harry felt at the boy's presence.

"Is something wrong?"

Harry thought quick on how to answer, and seeing the Ravenclaws, Harry decided to go with that. "The Ravenclaws in my class have been trying to hurt me or get me in trouble," Harry answered quietly. "Last night they hexed me, so I was confused, and my some professors found me in one of the corridors with a sponge in my hand and paint on the wall. I don't know if they cursed me to do it, or they just set me up to make it look like I did it, but I have no idea what it said, and no one would tell me. And, Dad won't believe me that's its the Ravenclaws. Said I have no proof."

Malfoy looked at him, worried. It was a strange look to see on the boy's face. Harry hadn't expected himself to say all that, either. Once he started, it sort of just came out. "I doubt Professor Snape doesn't believe you. He's probably just trying to keep you out of it." Malfoy said. "Third year Ravenclaws, right? Yeah, they'd probably hate you. Last year, a couple of them did something big - I wasn't able to find out what it was, they kept it quiet - and got expelled. Snape was the one who caught them, so they probably blame him." Malfoy paused. "After something like that, though, the professors are probably setting up ways to protect you while they find out who is responsible."

"Great," Harry said, more upset about how no one knew he was Harry Potter, and he had to be more careful around Hogwarts than if they did know.

Harry hazard another glance at the Ravenclaws, who finally stopped looking at him, and Snape, who was talking with Sprout at the Head Table. He went back to eating. "Oh," he said. They ate the rest of their breakfasts in silence, and Malfoy left first, wishing him luck. Harry grunted what he hoped sounded like a goodbye.

Despite Malfoy's assurances, Harry didn't think Snape was actually doing anything about it. Harry had brought up the Ravenclaws before, and that didn't stop them. Harry couldn't wait until next week, when his friends would be back so he could talk with them about it.

Harry finished eating and left the Great Hall, finding himself without something to do again, and decided to take a walk on the grounds. He wanted to avoid the quidditch pitch, but he could wander down around Hagrid's hut. Even though Hagrid didn't know who he was, the half giant was friendly to all the students and liked when someone showed interest in what he was doing.

Thinking about how Hagrid must have felt when he learned that Harry wasn't coming back sent a pang through Harry's heart, but he wandered down that way, anyway, not wanting to go through the gardens.

The snow was deep on the grounds - since it was the holidays, only the main paths were cleared off; he expected the rest would be taken care of soon - but it looked like Hagrid managed to clear a path to his hut, and Harry wandered down, realizing too late he should have gotten his cloak. Not wanting to go back inside after breathing the cool air, Harry continued on, disappointed to see that it looked like Hagrid wasn't around. Sighing, Harry wandered down to the lake.

It looked like most of it was frozen over, but someone had broken the ice closest to the shore, leaving an area wide enough to toss pebbles, if someone wanted. Or a quick swim, although who would want to go swimming in the winter, Harry didn't know. It didn't matter, though, it was quiet and the cool air felt good on his lungs. Deciding this was as good a place as any to think, Harry melted a patch of snow and cast a warming charm on the spot so he wouldn't freeze, thinking he could clear his mind out here.

Better here than Sirius' house, which even with the Christmas decorations seemed gloomy. Thinking back to yesterday evening, Harry realized that focusing on the creature in the bottle worked out quite well. He still didn't know what it was, but Snape hadn't told him he was horrible at it. In fact, almost seemed to complement him. Maybe if he started with simple stuff and worked his way up, he could eventually learn to identify the creatures while Snape was trying to get into his head. Harry, almost intrigued by the challenge he set himself, cleared his mind, thinking only of the creature in the jar and what it looked like.

Harry figured he had been by the lake for half an hour before he heard multiple footsteps in the snow behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Harry groaned when he saw it was four of the Ravenclaw boys and he stood, making sure his wand was still in his robes.

"Snape!" One of them called. "We heard what you did!" Harry didn't answer, wondering what the boys were doing. They must have still thought that the professors thought it was him who did the painting and were trying to cover their actions to anyone who might be listening. He was a little nervous on what they had planned. One on one, he was sure he'd be able to beat any of them, as they were a couple years younger. He'd probably take care of two of them quite easily if they stayed close to each other. Four, though . . . even though Harry knew his defense was better than the third years in front of him, even as they came toward him they started spreading out to surround him.

Harry backed up as far as he could to the lake, not wanting them to get behind him. Even so, they didn't stop advancing until there was one on either side of him, and the other two in front of him, all about ten feet away. If they were going to hex him, Harry wasn't sure he had a chance.

"I didn't do anything," Harry said as calmly as he could. It wasn't as if he was facing Voldemort. He shouldn't be scared right now.

 _But I am_ , Harry thought grimly. _I have no idea what they're going to do_.

"Oh, threaten Ravenclaw and think you can get away with it, right?" One of the boys in front of him, Jones, said. "I guess being Snape's son has some perks."

"I didn't do anything," Harry repeated. "You know I didn't," he continued, getting angry.

"But how would we know that. We know the professors caught you, but you didn't get in trouble at all, did you?"

"I have nothing against Ravenclaw," Harry said, trying a different tactic. Expect you, he wanted to say. He held his tongue, trying to figure out what the boys surrounding him would do.

Jones gave a single nod and suddenly, the Ravenclaws surrounding him had their wands out, pointing at him. Harry went to reach for his wand.

"I don't think so," the boy next to Jones said – Jackson, Harry thought but wasn't sure. A stinging curse hit his wand hand, and Harry yelled out. Trying to ignore the pain, Harry drew his wand as quickly as he could, finding he was having trouble gripping it. He switched to his right hand, what used to be his wand hand feeling strange at the weight. He was pretty sure Flitwick would have taken points for how he was holding his wand, but his left hand hurt too much.

Jones threw a curse at him, and Harry was able to cast a shield charm quick enough, but the Ravenclaw to his left took the oportunity to cast a jelly legs curse at him, and Harry found himself on the ground, unable to hold himself up. The snow underneath him soaked rather quickly into his robes.

"Expellarmis!" Harry yelled, and Jones' wand was knocked out of his hands, landing close to Harry. Before Harry try to disarm anyone else, Harry found himself thrown backwards into the lake, the ice cold water shocking him. After a few moments, Harry found himself sinking deeper into the water, but habit had allowed his hand to keep firmly gripped to the wand.

Its just like the triwizard tournament, Harry thought. But without gillyweed. Harry started panicking again when refluxes kicked in and he breathed in some water.

Quick, he thought, what did Hermione say the spell was for the Bubblehead charm? Harry had to stop moving against the water to try to cast the spell he had never cast before, only knowing the incantation and what he thought was the wand movement. A swish flick flick swish, he thought, or no . . . swish swish flick flick swish . . . it took him six tries to get it close enough that a bubble barely big enough to cover his mouth attached to him and each time it was getting harder and harder to move from the cold. He breathed in deep when he managed, only to find himself coughing up the water he had breathed in before, causing him to stop swimming again and sink further.

Harry couldn't help but think the lake wasn't think deep that close to shore before he belatedly realized he should cast a heating charm, but Harry panicked again when he realized he couldn't remember the one that heated water . . . the one he used earlier worked only on solid ground. At least able to breath, Harry gave up fighting against the current and let it sweep him further while he focused instead on trying to swim what he hoped was up.

The movement warmed him up a bit - barely - but as Harry reached the top of the lake, he felt his heart drop. He was far enough into the lake the surface above him was frozen over, and he could feel his bubble head charm starting to wear off. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to recast it, but couldn't focus on how to say the incantation, his face so cold he could barely move his mouth. Instead, he tried a blasting charm, which barely worked, then a melting charm. The melting charm worked better, and Harry cast it again, the incantation shorter, but it was too slow.

Harry took one last deep breath as the bubble charm wore off completely, knowing he wasn't going to make it out. The melting charm was going too slow, and he only had a small indent on the ice above him. Even if he managed to get through, it wouldn't be big enough for him to get out. Panicking, Harry tried the blasting curse one more time and managed to explode a big enough area to pull his head up, the ice only adding to the pain of the coldness.

There was enough space he was able to pull himself up enough to take a few deep breaths, but his shoulders wouldn't fit. Taking a breath Harry reluctantly allowed himself to go back down into the freezing water, which now felt warmer than the cold air to his wet head, And forced himself to cast another blasting charm. It was big enough for him to fit, now, but he wasn't sure he had the strength to pull himself up. He held onto the ice for a few moments, breathing through his chattering teeth before mustering all the strength he could to pull himself onto the snow covered ice.

His torso out of the water, Harry felt himself getting more hazy, and he struggled to pull himself forward so he was completely out. He made to cast a warming charm on himself, but before he was able to sit up and lift his wand, he felt himself starting to black out.

The professors who were at Hogwarts were in the staff room when the alarm sounded that a student was in the lake.

"Well . . . who would be in the lake at this time of year?" Minerva asked as they moved toward the door in a group. "Well, we don't all need to go," she said, the teachers slightly amused. "Severus, will you come?"

Severus nodded as he summoned a few potions from the cupboard, just in case they were needed, and they hurried toward the lake.

"What's happened here?" Minerva asked to no one in particular, noticing the missing ice at the shore.

"I've found students have practiced blasting charms out here in the past. It's possible this was the case this time," Severus answered, not seeing any students. "They must have left quickly," he said, turning to leave.

"Severus, wait, there's someone on the ice."

He looked out, and sure enough, he could see a figure in black school robes on the white ice. Minerva had already begun transfiguring a walkway over the water, snow and ice and they hurried toward the figure.

Severus felt his heart stop when he saw Tristan next to a blasted hole in the ice, ice already starting to form on the boy's clothes. Severus cast a heating charm as Minerva had already bent down to turn him over and look him over.

"He's barely breathing, Severus," Minerva said, panic in her voice, and she levitated Potter. Without thinking, Severus took the boy into his arms and started rushing toward the castle. He heard Minerva close behind him, sending a notice to the Hospital Wing that a student was on the way.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them when they arrived, and started her work before Severus was able to set the boy down on the bed. Half a minute in, she seemed satisfied and turned to Severus.

"He'll wake in a few minutes, but might be confused from shock. What happened?"

"We received noticed someone was in the lake. When we arrived, it appeared Tristan had found himself below the ice and had blasted his way out."

"He was probably in the water for . . . maybe ten minutes? And with only his robes . . ." Madam Pomfrey said. "If he was under the ice, he must have done something from preventing himself from drowning . . ." Severus looked down at the boy, wondering what he had been doing in the water in the first place. "His hand . . ." Madam Pomfrey said at last. Severus looked closer. "I had been stabilizing his temperature, I didn't notice. This is a overpowered stinging curse," she said. She went to the potion stores and pulled out a potion. "We'll give it to him when he wakes up. I don't want him waking up thinking he's drowning."

"He was attacked?" Minerva and Severus said at the same time, and they exchanged looks. Whatever students were doing, they seemed to have more planned than pranks.

"Hopefully he saw who it was," Minerva said as Severus pried the boy's wand from his other hand, just realizing it was there. "This is getting rather out of hand."

"Yes, it is," Severus said darkly, realizing that had they made it out there much later, the boy might have died. Minerva stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder.

"He'll be awake soon. We made it on time," she said. "If this really is those third year Ravenclaws, there many not be any by seventh year at this rate. That group seems really out of character for the usual Ravenclaws," she huffed.

"They're a close-knit group," Severus stated quietly, angry. "If I'm not mistaken, most of their parents were close, so they may have grown up together." Severus wasn't too familiar with the families, but he knew enough to suspect there was some sort of organization behind them. What it stood for, he didn't know, but he overheard a few of the students discussing their parents before.

Potter started to stir, and Severus moved into a position he knew the boy would be able to see him. Pomfrey shooed him out of the way, though, potion in hand, and the moment Potter seemed conscious urged him to drink it before casting a few more spells. Severus glared.

"How do you feel?" the Medi-witch asked.

"F-fine," the boy said. Finally, the witch seemed satisfied and moved away to allow Severus in as Albus walked into the infirmary. Severus ignored him, casting a few diagnosis charms of his own, remembering that it was only yesterday evening Potter had hit his head on the frozen ground. He cursed himself as he realized he should have mentioned it to Poppy earlier. The boy had seemed fine yesterday, but combined with the cold shock today, it could have caused it to be worse.

"What happened?" he asked, realizing only after the boy flinched that it was harsher than he intended. Potter looked at him for a few moments before answering.

"It was the . . . Jones and Jackson and . . . two other Ravenclaw boys. I don't remember their names." Potter tried to sit up, but Severus put a hand on his shoulder. With a glare, he continued. "I went to the lake because it was quiet and I wanted to practice . . ." Potter trailed off and Severus realized he remembered there was more than just them in the room. "I wanted to think, and they surrounded me. If they didn't all attack me at once, I could have stopped them!" he said.

"You went down to the lake without a cloak and gloves?" Severus asked.

"I used a warming charm once I got down there," the boy mumbled.

"How did you end up in the water?"

Potter shrugged. "I don't know. I was able to disarm one of them and then I was thrown backwards." Minerva and Albus, who had been talking a bit further back, finally came up to the bed.

"Hello, my boy," Albus said grimly, and Potter seemed to regard the two with apprehension. "I trust you are feeling better?"

"Yes," Potter mumbled again, and Severus made a mental note to talk to him about that.

"You appear to have managed a fair amount of spell work under duress," Albus said. "I do wonder how to managed to not suffocate?" Severus glared at the headmaster, wondering why he was questioning that at the moment instead of trying to determine who had attacked the boy, but it was only then that Severus realized Filius had entered the room with Albus. Severus shook his head, usually more attentive to what was going on around him.

"A . . . er . . . a bubblehead charm," Harry said, still muttering. Severus wondered if the growing number of adults was causing the boy to be less responsive. "It didn't really work well, though, and wore off quickly . . ."

Filius squeeked and Severus stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "A bubblehead charm! Where did you learn that? That's an rather advanced charm!"

Potter blushed, and Severus stared at him, willing him to answer appropriately. The last thing he needed was for the boy to bring up the tournament, which was where he probably learn it. "Er . . . one of my mom's books," he answered slowly. "I hadn't tried it before, and I was barely able to cast it."

"Well, you seemed to have cast it well enough," Minerva said, and Potter blushed again.

"Oh, I can't wait to test you!" Filius said, and Severus shot him a look.

"Not now, Filius," he said, and the Charms professor at least at the decency to look ashamed.

"Well, yes, of course. When he's well again, of course."

"What is this, a party?" Poppy said, coming back into the room. "Out! He needs rest. Severus, you can stay, but I really must insist, the rest of you, out!"


	12. Chapter 11 - Rest of the Holiday

**A/N: Hello again! Again, I want to thank everyone who reviews. I really like hearing from you guys on what you think. Anyway . . . enjoy the chapter!**

 **Chapter 11 – Rest of the Holiday**

It was a few days before Harry was let out of the Hospital Wing, but Snape had met him halfway down to the dungeons; they walked in silence until they reached the dungeons and passed the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Harry looked up at his professor curiously, who just continued walking, facing forward. Snape led him to the sitting room he brought him to occasionally, and Harry sighed, wondering what the man wanted to talk to him about now. He had recounted what had happened several times before Dumbledore had asked him to borrow his memory, and Snape had already talked to him about not going outside without the proper attire in addition to not mumbling when he was speaking with adults.

No one had told Harry what was going to happen to the Ravenclaws that attacked him. He knew Snape wanted them expelled - he had overheard a few of the adult's conversations when they thought he was asleep - but he was able to gather that because they weren't _trying_ to kill him they would probably get off with loads of points being taken away and weeks worth of detentions. That didn't make Harry too happy.

At least Harry earned 50 points for his use of magic under extreme conditions. Malfoy, and a few of the other older Slytherins had visited him, wishing him well and congratulating him, which did make Harry feel a little bit better.

It seemed that, even as Tristan Snape, he couldn't avoid danger.

Harry sat in his usual seat, and Snape, much to Harry's dismay sat in the seat next to him instead of his usual seat across from him.

"I'm going to have you stay here for the remainder of the holiday," Snape said flatly. "I, or one of the older students, will escort you to the Great Hall for meals if we do not eat here. By then, hopefully, the students who attacked you will understand the consequences of their actions."

Harry stared at Snape, slowly realizing that Snape was basically keeping him prisoner here . . . wherever here was. Harry had never seen any of the other rooms.

"Your room is the door in the right. The bathroom is next to it. Stay out of my bedroom. You may read any of the books in this room, but I suggest you focus on the Charms books at the moment. Professor Flitwick will be testing you the first day of the term." Harry sighed but nodded. "I have decided to keep you at your current level in Potions so I can keep an eye on how your classmates are acting with you in the room, but I expect you to stay at the top of your class."

Snape paused, and Harry looked up, finding himself staring at the rug. "As an added challenge, you will make attempt to make changes to the potion in order to improve it. Things as small as how you prepare the ingredients will make a difference, so you may want to give it a bit of a thought before each class. In addition, you will add six inches to each essay assigned explaining your changes and what effect you believe it will have." Snape stopped talking, and Harry stared at him with disbelief. Six extra inches? "Do you understand the assignment?" Snape asked sharply.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, although he wasn't completely sure he did. Improve the potions how? Weren't the potions in the textbooks good enough? Harry sighed again.

"My office is through that door," Snape said, pointing to a door close to the entrance, "which is where I will be for a few hours. Keep yourself occupied."

Snape left, leaving an annoyed Harry behind. Snape seemed cross that he was having Harry in his rooms - not that Harry wanted to, mind you - and Harry couldn't help but think that if Snape had listened to him in the first place, none of this would have happened.

After a few minutes of sulking, Harry stood and went to his room to look around.

* * *

The evening found Severus fuming in the Headmaster's office.

"I am sorry, Severus," Albus said.

"It does not matter that they had not intended to kill him," Severus spat. "The fact is that their actions put him in a potentially lethal situation. He _would have died._ "

"I know, Severus," Albus said quietly. "But I am afraid that expelling them at this stage could make the situation worse for Tristan."

"Albus-"

"Severus," Albus interrupted, his tone not allowing for argument. "There is more history than you realize. The punishment will be adequate, I assure you. I have assigned several house elves to keep an eye on the third year Ravenclaws, in addition to a few of the second and forth years that I see as potential problems, along with a strict curfew for the four attackers . There will not be another opportunity for anything to happen again."

That quieted Severus, although he still didn't agree with the Headmaster's decision. He knew Albus was against using the house elves to spy on the students. Many professors have suggested it for unruly students over the years and had been turned down.

" _Why_ do you believe this is the best course of action?" Severus asked, feeling he deserved answers if he were to not get the result he wanted. "What is it that you haven't told me?" Albus shook his head, refusing to answer. Severus had to take several deep breaths. "Do you need anything else, Headmaster?" Severus asked bitterly, wanting out of the office before he said something he'd regret. Albus dismissed him and Severus left. It felt horribly familiar, but he couldn't help but feel out of place, considering why he felt that way.

He never thought he'd be siding with Potter. What disturbed him the most, though, was the fear he felt when he thought the boy might have died. Severus had been protecting him for years, out of duty, out of love for the boy's mother, but he had never felt much but hate for Potter.

Severus calmed himself as he headed for the dungeons, wanting to make sure Potter was asleep before he patrolled the corridors. He had only made it to the fourth floor when the familiar pain in his left arm was triggered. Closing his mind, Severus conjured his mask before walking to the gate and apparating.

Severus looked around when he arrived; they were in a forest, although he wasn't able to tell where; the only light was a fire ahead of him, so he made his way there, wondering if anyone else had been called.

"Severus," the Dark Lord said slowly. "It's been some time since I've seen you."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus answered. "There has been no urgent information."

"None?"

"No, my Lord. There is no one I am in contact with, except perhaps Dumbledore, who knows the location of Potter, and I am hesitant to push for that information as he has told me I do not need to know. Even the Weasleys are being kept in the dark. Dumbledore is sending out scouts to various groups in order to guarantee loyalty, but he seems unsure as to how to proceed."

"Good, Severus. Now, I hear news that you have a son?" The Dark Lord's tone was almost conversational, but Severus knew he had his reasons to be asking. Severus cleared his mind; he was hoping to avoid this for as long as possible.

"Yes, my Lord. I found out this summer, shortly after the mother died. He is at Hogwarts, now."

"His age?"

"Thirteen."

"And the mother was a witch?"

"Of course, my Lord. Pureblood." The Dark Lord gave a strange smile that made Severus' blood cold.

"And his spell work?"

"Top of most his classes, my Lord, even though he was homeschooled before this year." Severus hid it well, but he was uncomfortable at the attention the Dark Lord was giving his supposed son; A son that was thirteen and too young to be of any use to the Dark Lord. He wondered if the Dark Lord suspected, but he knew there would be no proof. The disguise was perfect. It would only go wrong if either one of them slipped, and Potter had proven himself fully capable of the deception.

"Your son has not proven to be too much of a distraction from your duties?"

"No, my Lord. He keeps himself occupied most of the time."

The Dark Lord was silent for a few minutes.

"Very well. You may leave, Severus."

Severus gladly left, making sure he didn't appear too eager to be leaving.

When he arrived back at his room, Severus checked in on Potter, thankfully finding him asleep on the bed, albeit not under the covers . . . the boy seemed to have fallen asleep halfway through getting ready for bed, and Severus walked up to him to make sure Potter had indeed simply fallen asleep.

Watching Potter sleep for a few minutes, he'd had to admit he was honestly surprised at Potter's lack of rule breaking this year. The vision that accounted for the boy's sudden decision to not go back to Hogwarts had seemed to beat some sense into him. _What is in store for this boy's future_? Severus asked grimly.

Walking out of the room, Severus realized that, even as angry as he was at the man, he needed to speak with Albus about his meeting with the Dark Lord.

Albus was still in his office when Severus arrived, and he seemed surprised to see Severus so soon.

"I was called tonight," Severus said, and Albus motioned to the seat across the desk. Severus sat. "He seemed most interested in Tristan."

Albus stayed quiet for a moment. "This was the only reason he called?"

"Yes," Severus said flatly. "I believe he was merely gathering information, at this point. A thirteen year old child is not much use to him at this point. He may be thinking ahead." Severus paused. "Or . . . he may be thinking of ways to strengthen his hold on me."

Albus nodded. "Or, he may suspect the suspected something like this might happen," he said, and Severus gave a single nod. "We just have to ensure that in works in our favor."

"Perhaps this plan might not have been the best idea," Severus said bitterly. "As Tristan, he is the son of a Death Eater. That might not be a safer than being Harry Potter."

"Perhaps you are correct, but remember, he _is_ Harry Potter. He may be separated from the seriousness of the war for the moment, but eventually, he will find himself involved. If we can control _when_ he becomes involved, in might work in his favor," Albus said thoughtfully.

"I thought," Severus said slowly, bitterly, "the reason for this . . . _charade_ is to protect the boy."

"The purpose was to keep him at Hogwarts, because he _would not_ have come willingly," Albus said. "He is most protected here, yes."

Albus stopped, but Severus couldn't help but feel there was more to that sentence.

"Being in the Dark Lord's sight is safe for no one," Severus snapped. "I never should have agreed to this."

"Severus," Albus said with a smile "are you beginning to care for Harry?" Severus jerked unexpectedly before glaring at the Headmaster.

"I gave my word that I would protect Potter," Severus said flatly. "How I feel about him plays no part in this." And that was still very true, Severus realized. Had Potter still been the Potter he remembered from the previous four years, he would still argue that Potter should not be in direct sight of the Dark Lord.

It didn't matter what he thought of Potter.

* * *

By the time the start of term approached, Harry was so desperate for company he would have willingly gone to find Malfoy had he been allowed out of Snape's rooms; even though they were _Snape's own_ _rooms_ , he still only saw the man at the evenings, when he would read quietly by the fire, preferring to be undisturbed.

"What happened to those Ravenclaws?" Harry asked the last evening before classes started. Snape looked up at him and waved him away, but Harry wasn't going to go anywhere without answers. To him, it seemed unreasonable that he was locked up– literally up locked, because he tried several times to sneak out, failing – in Snape's quarters when the Slytherin common room and dorms would have been just as safe from the Ravenclaws. And Harry still had the suspicion that they _weren't_ expelled.

Snape looked up again, his expression looking as if he just realized Harry was there, despite having tried to wave him away. "What?"

"What happened to those Ravenclaws?" Harry asked again. "Classes start tomorrow. Why can't I go back to my dorm?"

"The Ravenclaws are being sufficiently punished. You will not have to worry about them again," Snape told him flatly before going back to his reading.

"Then why am I still stuck here?" Harry asked. Snape kept looking at his book, but Harry could tell the man wasn't reading it any longer. _Why won't he answer?_ Harry thought, frustrated. Finally, he looked up.

"You are still here because I have deemed it to be the safest place for you to be at the moment."

"I am still going to classes tomorrow, right?" Harry asked suspiciously. He didn't know why Snape was being so horrible. He almost preferred Snape criticizing him rather than being this quiet prison guard. "I still get to go back to the dorms tomorrow?" Snape didn't answer immediately. " _Right_? I'm bored. I've done everything a hundred times over."

"Don't exaggerate," Snape told him. "And yes, you will be going to classes tomorrow."

"Did something else happen?" Harry asked, tired of not getting the answers he wanted. Snape used to love rubbing horrible things in his face, and now it felt like he was doing what everyone else had been doing: keeping him in the dark. Sure, Snape never really went out of his way to tell Harry anything. It was more to try to show Harry how _wrong_ he was about everything, but at least it wasn't like this.

"Like, what, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But you couldn't possibly _still_ be keeping me here because of the Ravenclaws."

"Perhaps I'm keeping you here," Snape said with what Harry could only assume was a Snape version of glee, "because if I don't lock you up, you'd be wandering around the corridors, breaking rules. You can't wander off if you're locked up."

Harry glared at Snape, doing all he could not to kick the chair Snape was sitting in.

Snape was such a git.

Stomping off to his room, Harry flopped backwards on his bed, realizing a minute too late that him leaving was what Snape wanted. Angry, Harry sulked until he fell asleep.

 _His anger flared. In front of him stood the two men who had been tracking Harry Potter, bearing the news that their lead had fallen short._

" _You are sssaying," he said slowly, "that I am wrong?"_

" _N-no, my Lord," said one of the men._

" _No?" he asked, pulling his wand, anger mounting._

" _N-no," the man said again. "B-but there's n-nothing there. You . . . could be right, my Lord, b-but they've hid it well."_

With the flick of Voldemort's wand, Harry tore himself away from the dream, screaming. He couldn't get the image out of his mind, and he scrambled to get away from his bed, getting tangled in covers he didn't remember going under. With the slam of his hands on the stone floor, Harry couldn't keep his stomach calm, and he puked, barely noticing someone was next to him.

He felt like he sat in his puke for minutes before it disappeared and he noticed that someone was speaking to him. A few moments later, he realized it was Snape, but it felt like it took all he had to focus on what his professor was saying.

"What happened?" Snape asked as he helped Harry sit up and lean against the bed, but the movement combined with remembering the dream made his stomach heave again. This time, though, Snape managed to conjure a bucket and set it in Harry's lap as he started to gag. This time, Snape waited quietly while he tried to focus on what happened.

He didn't _want_ to think about it.

"I – he's angry he can't find me," Harry said, his voice coming out in a whisper. "He . . . I think . . . I think he cursed him inside out!" Harry said, unable to stop the sob that came from his throat. Harry berated himself; he felt like it shouldn't affect him so much, but this hadn't just been someone dying, someone bleeding to death or hit with a killing curse . . .

The man had been inside out, and his heart was still _beating_.

Snape took the bucket from him and grabbed his chin, pulling out his wand. Harry knew what the man wanted; The grip on his chin was weak, though, and he knew that if he refused, he could simply turn his head. But, Harry didn't want to see this alone. He wanted Snape to take the memory from him and never give it back, but even if that weren't possible, at least Snape could know what he saw.

" _Legilimens_ ," Snape said quietly, and Harry saw it again; this time, it wasn't as bad, though. Even through the memory, Harry could feel Snape next to him and it made it bearable.

Harry, still in a daze, half asleep and still terrified, didn't expect much of anything when Snape ended the spell. So, when Harry suddenly found Snape's arms around him, the man's chin on the top of his head, he was sure he was still dream. Sleep starting to take over him again, Harry didn't protest, even though he was sure that if he ever told Snape of this dream, he'd never hear the end of it.


	13. Chapter 12 - Charms

**A/N: Next chapter. Thanks for the reviews again! I'm glad you guys are liking it.**

 **Chapter 12 - Charms**

Snape did, in fact, let Harry go to classes the next day. Barely said a word to him, actually, except to expect Professor Flitwick to be testing him today and to make sure that he kept his mind clear as much as possible.

Harry had woken up back in bed, a feeling of doom overshadowing him. He remembered the vision and Snape hugging him.

 _Snape_. _Hugging_ him.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with that information. He had only ever been hugged by Mrs. Weasley and a quick couple of times by Sirius – just little ones, to let him know he was there for him – and no one had _ever_ hugged him like that after a nightmare.

But it hadn't really been a nightmare. It had been a vision. A very, very real; very, very disturbing vision. And Snape must have found it awful, too, because he hugged him afterwards.

 _Hugged him_.

So, Harry had to admit that he was _very_ relieved when Snape pretended nothing had happened, even though part of him – a very _small_ part, mind you – was glad it did happen.

Harry shook his head as he headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. He refused to admit that the hug helped, even though no one had ever done that for him when he was scared before. He refused to admit that he was glad Snape had trapped him in his rooms so that he hadn't been so utterly alone when the vision happened, because if he had been alone in the dungeons . . .

Harry shook his head again. He had better things to think about.

As he walked into the Great Hall, Harry felt himself happier when he noticed Wyatt and Lucas sitting in their usual spot. They only spotted him as he sat down next to them, and they stared at him with something akin to awe.

"Where have you _been_?" Wyatt asked. "The Slytherins that stayed said that you nearly drowned and were in the Hospital Wing, and then no one had seen you since!"

"I've been in Dad's rooms," Harry said. "He wouldn't let me leave; it was horrible. I am so happy to see the both of you."

"And they say you've earned Slytherin 50 points! We're ahead of everyone now!" Lucas said. "But what happened?"

Harry glanced over at the Ravenclaw table as stealthily as he could. The Ravenclaws who attacked him were all there, but they, and the rest of the third years, sat quietly among each other. Not reading, not talking, barely eating. He turned back to his friends.

"It was the Ravenclaws," Harry whispered. If no one else knew, he'd rather it stay that way. "But don't tell anyone. I'd rather not give them more ammunition about anything."

"What did they do?" Wyatt asked, just as quiet, and Harry told them in hushed whispers, including what Malfoy had told him about them. He felt the rest of the table watching them, but they weren't close enough to listen, so Harry ignored them.

"So, they nearly kill you, and they're still here?"

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly. "But Dad says I don't have to worry about them anymore."

"Sure," Lucas told them. "They're just going to stop, after everything. They're probably just going to try to be more sneaky, now."

"We have to be ready," Wyatt said. "I got more of my dad's books that looked like they might be useful. If they try anything again, they'll be sorry."

"I think my dad will kill me if I do anything," Harry told them, not for the first time. He couldn't help but want to be prepared, though. If there was something in the books that could help him in a duel . . .

Flitwick didn't meet up with Harry until close to dinner and Harry grudgingly followed the professor to the Charms classroom. He wasn't sure he wanted to move up to fourth year; not that he was worried about the class. The last thing he wanted was to stand out, and moving up a year in one class? That would definitely make him stand out more than being Snape's son or being a target of the Ravenclaws.

Harry spent a half an hour with Flitwick. It was easier than Harry assumed it would be; even as he got up to the charms he learned at the end of fourth year, he noticed that they worked a lot easier than he remembered. It made him feel a little better about having to repeat his third and fourth year and he remembered what Snape had said about using this time to improve his spell work instead of having an easy year.

Eventually, Flitwick started naming charms Harry didn't recognize, and, seemingly just for the professor's amusement, he asked him to cast the bubblehead charm. Reluctantly, Harry did, and he – again – was surprised at how easy it was to cast it. Instead of the small bubble on his mouth he got the last time, the bubble covered his entire head. _I guess it helps I'm not freezing to death in the water_ , Harry thought.

"Well, Mr. Snape, I was considering moving you up to fourth year Charms " Flitwick said as he finished, obviously excited, "but you seem to know those charms well, too. And as you have a familiarity with some of the fifth year charms, I think . . . yes, I think definitely. I will be moving you up to fifth year Charms. You should be able to catch up easily enough with some help, and you seem to need the challenge. Your mother taught you well, and you seem to have an affinity for Charms! Using that charm for the first time in a dangerous situation . . . wonderful! Well, not wonderful about the danger . . ." Flitwick's excitement wore off a bit as he remembered his third year students. "Well, off you go to dinner, Mr. Snape. I will talk with Professor McGonagall to get your new schedule organized."

Harry left the Charms classroom feeling better. Sure, he was annoyed that he wouldn't have Charms with his friends – and skipping _two years_ in a class seemed a bit excessive to Harry – but for the first time since he got his school books when he was eleven, he was actually excited about _school_. About his classes. This was more than thinking of Hogwarts as his home; Harry found he _actually_ wanted to see how well he could do. If relearning earlier stuff was making charming that much easier . . .

Harry seriously wished that Umbridge wasn't such an awful teacher. He could be getting _so_ much better in Defense, because that's really what he needed to be good in; because that's what he'd need to _excel_ in. He had to make sure that he'd _win_ in a duel against Voldemort because he sure wasn't going to just let Voldemort kill him.

 _Maybe Snape would teach me some Defense_ , Harry thought. _Wasn't it Snape who wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyway?_ His thoughts strayed to Sirius' and Lupin's gift to him. He couldn't believe he forgot about it! The entire time he had been locked in Snape's rooms, he could have been studying Defense.

At dinner, Harry told Wyatt and Lucas the news about him taking fifth year Charms instead of third year and at their blank looks, realized he forgot to tell them that Flitwick was going to test him.

"Why would you do that?" Lucas asked.

"Well, my mom taught me a lot of Charms," Harry said as he realized that Snape hadn't told him much about his supposed mother. He knew that she was good at Charms and that she hadn't talked much to anyone. Ever. Harry had trouble putting together how he was supposed to be the son of someone who never talked to anyone. She had to have at least _dated_ Snape at one point, right?

Harry had trouble with the idea of Snape dating anyone, and he tried to stop thinking about it. Wyatt was talking to him, anyway.

". . . but you will still be in the rest of the third year classes, right, mate?"

"Of course," Harry told them.

"Because we know you're doing better than us in all our classes," Wyatt continued.

"I'm rubbish at Arithmancy," Harry reminded them. "And Charms is different. That's mostly what I learned before, so I think I got a little too far ahead."

"Maybe they should re-sort you into Ravenclaw," Lucas told him jokingly. "They wouldn't be able to hate you so much because you'd be one of them."

"Ugh, don't even joke about that," Wyatt said. "And besides, Tristan wouldn't do well in Ravenclaw. He'd rather be reading his stories rather than a school book, even if he is a know-it-all."

"I'm _not_ a know-it-all!" Harry told them, feeling like the conversation was turning from joking to accusing.

"Oh, please. We know you barely study," Lucas said a little grumpy.

"Well, maybe I don't need to," Harry huffed, "but I don't go shoving it in your face or anything. I just wanted to tell you the news. I wouldn't have done it anyway, if my dad didn't say I had to."

"Yeah, I guess that's the downside to having your dad as a professor," Lucas relented. "Look, we're happy for you, but . . . it feels like you're showing off a bit, that's all."

"I'm not," Harry said defensively. "I didn't want to be tested in the first place.

* * *

Severus listened to Filius talk about Potter's – well, Tristan's – talent in Charms. He had, it seemed, even known some of the fifth year charms and had bumped him up to fifth, instead of fourth like they had discussed. Severus wasn't sure he was as pleased as he felt he probably should be. Part of him was glad, yes, because the boy was portraying his son and he expected him to do well. The other part of him – the part that couldn't let go that this boy was Harry Potter – was annoyed. Bitter.

He had remembered from previous years Filius saying that Potter was good at Charms, even though he didn't put effort into his school work like Granger, but he knew that Potter barely touched those Charms books he had suggested the boy work on during the holiday. In fact, the only one he remembered Potter looking at was a fifth year text Severus had nearly thrown at him a few days ago when he saw none of the books had been touched.

So, what Potter knew of fifth year Charms, he had probably learned in a few days, and it was probably boredom that pushed him to learn it. It hadn't been much, Filius had said, but enough that he felt _Tristan_ could still excel in the class.

"And what about O.W.L.'s," Severus brought up. "He's thirteen. A little young to be taking the exam."

"There wouldn't be anything stopping him from taking it," Minerva said, who had been listening in. "Ten years ago, I had a similar situation with a student in Transfiguration. Remember Ms. Bricoss? Transfiguration came as easily to her as breathing. Took her O.W.L. in third year and her N.E.W.T. in fifth. I believe she's doing research, now. Fully funded."

"Is he at least going to be able to sit in with the fifth year Slytherins?" Severus asked, dreading the answer. Fifth year Charms for Slytherin overlapped with Potter's Transfiguration class.

"He'll have to sit in with the Gryffindors, Severus," Minerva said. "It's the only class that doesn't overlap with his others, and it's not possible to switch his other classes around."

"You _know_ that class has a particular prejudice against the Slytherins, thanks to _Potter,_ " Severus said roughly. He no longer believed this – Potter seemed to have fit into Slytherin without a problem – but his old belief was a good point to bring up. _It would not do well to have Potter spend class time with his Gryffindor friends_ , he thought. True, he hadn't asked Potter how Christmas as Grimmauld Place went, and true, Potter still seemed capable of hiding his identity to his old friends, but the _last_ thing he wanted was for Potter to fall back into rule-breaking.

"Don't bring Potter into this, Severus," McGonagall said sternly. "The boy isn't even here, and you know that young Malfoy had just as much play in that as Potter did. It was a mutual dislike."

 _Such a downplay_ , Severus thought. "I still do believe it would be better if we found a way for Tristan to take Charms with the Slytherins. He would have more support with his own housemates." Minerva shook her head.

"It just isn't possible, Severus. Would you rather him stay in third year? Get bored at put off at the class?"

"No," Severus said sharply.

"And I think it will be fine. Molly mentioned that Tristan stayed with them for a couple weeks during the Holiday? Said that Tristan got along well enough with everyone, even if he was a bit recluse," Minerva told him.

"He'll be bullied," Severus said; one last effort.

"I don't believe that Granger will allow that to happen," Minerva said. "She does a rather fine job of keeping the Gryffindors in line. She's taking her job of being a Prefect very seriously. You're just being overprotective, Severus."

Severus huffed at that before continuing his meal, taking a glance at Potter. His group of friends were unusually quiet, appearing as if they were sulking and Severus glared at them, hoping it wasn't something he'd have to deal with later.

* * *

Snape had pulled Harry from the common room after dinner, and Harry glared at the man, thinking Snape wasn't going to let him sleep in the dorms again, but once they got to his professor's office, all he did was slide over his new schedule to him. Harry looked at it. Everything was the same except Charms was at a different time. He didn't see why Snape needed to pull him aside for _that_.

"Because of scheduling, you will not be having class with the fifth year Slytherins," Snape said flatly, "you will be having Charms with the Gryffindors." Harry froze, not sure how to feel about that. After a few minutes, Harry felt himself smile. "It will not be easy," Snape told him.

"I know," Harry said. "I know it won't. But I made it two weeks with them already, I can do a class with them. And I don't think they _hate_ me, you know, as Tristan. We didn't talk much, but Hermione even stopped the twins from playing pranks on me . . ."

Snape was looking at him with a small look of disgust, and Harry sighed. Snape didn't like the twins, much, he guessed.

"But if I could get to know them as _Tristan_ , it would be a lot easier than lying to them in letters. I'm running out of things to talk about, and nearly everything I'm telling them is lies, now."

"You cannot tell them the truth, no matter how close you get to them. You'll still have to write to them as Potter," Snape warned, and Harry nodded.

"I know."

"If the Dark Lord suspects the truth, both of our lives are in more danger than they already are." Harry froze. This was the first time Snape actually brought up Voldemort when they talked about no one finding out who Tristan really was. Before, he had always implied that it was the Ministry they had to worry about, because what they were doing wasn't really legal . . . and in truth, he hadn't thought about what would happen if Voldemort learned what was happening, and the fact that Snape was bringing it up now . . .

He suspected, but Snape had never brought it up. Not that he expected the man to. Snape didn't talk to him unless he had to, but . . . "Are you still a Death Eater?" Harry asked before he could stop the question from coming out. Snape stiffened, his face displaying an anger Harry hadn't seen in awhile. "I mean, I know you're not with . . . with you-know-who," Harry said quickly. He had gotten in the habit of not calling him Voldemort, because most people didn't, and it would be suspicious. "I mean, are you . . . spying or something?" Harry couldn't help that his eyes moved towards his professor's left arm, but Snape seemed to have calmed down a bit when Harry mentioned that he thought he was spying.

"Yes," Snape said dangerously, "which makes our position even more unsafe. Which makes you learning Occlumency even more important."

"We haven't had another lesson," Harry pointed out.

"No. I felt I pushed too far that last time, and I was waiting for you to recover, but that seemed to have been an bad idea." Snape's voice was back to his usual calm but almost-cold tone he used with Harry now, when they were alone. "Have you been practicing?"

"Yeah, I have . . ." Harry said, not wanting to bring up that he was still having trouble clearing his mind when he was trying to fall asleep. He knew he should, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the door in his dreams was _his_ to know about, no one else.

"And last night?"

"I was angry," Harry admitted. "I fell asleep before I tried to clear my mind."

"You have a habit of falling asleep before you go to bed," Snape said oddly, and Harry realized it was true. He'd often fall asleep while reading, or while thinking about something or playing a game. And strangely, he'd wake up in bed, not knowing how he had gotten there. Harry narrowed his eyes at his professor, trying to hide the blush he knew was forming as he realized _Snape_ had put him to bed. Several times.

Although he tried not to, he couldn't help but wonder how much the Dursleys hated him to keep him in a cupboard or locked in a bedroom for all his life when Snape – his hated Potions professor – took better care of him than anyone else had in his life. Even at the Weasleys.

His embarrassment was slowly turning into something Harry didn't recognize, and Harry forced himself to listen to Snape through a hazing feeling.

"We will have Occlumency on Mondays and Thursdays at seven," Snape said, ignoring Harry's embarrassment. Harry merely nodded.


	14. Chapter 13 - Hermione

**A/N: I late, I know! I've been planning a big move, which took up a lot of writing time. Anyway, hope you guys like the chapter. Thanks for all the reviews so far. I just hope I live up to your guys' expectations!**

 **Chapter 13 - Hermione**

Harry reluctantly walked up to the Charms classroom where his old classmates were waiting for Flitwick to open the door. Approaching the Gryffindors, Harry couldn't help but notice how tall his old friends were in comparison to his size now. It didn't help his nerves that as he shuffled toward them, the students closest to him glanced suspiciously in his direction. Ron and Hermione didn't seem to notice his approach yet, and thankfully those that did notice didn't say anything. That was one benefit of being Snape's son: most students didn't bother messing with him.

Finally, Flitwick arrived, letting everyone in. He gave Harry a smile, but didn't draw any extra attention to him, which Harry was grateful for, but he tried to shuffle in last anyway. He wasn't sure where he should sit and was hoping there was a spot near the back of the classroom. His luck wasn't so good, though, because as he was walking into the room, Hermione spotted him.

Harry groaned to himself as he tried to look away and ignore her, but it was no use. Hermione looked confused for a few seconds before she smiled.

"Tristan," she called across the room. "Come sit with us." Harry had to stop himself from actually groaning as the entire class glared at him. Figuring he had no choice but to sit next to Hermione and Ron – which he _did_ want to do, _mostly_ – he made his way over and sat between Hermione and Seamus. Seamus made a point to ignore him, which was fine. "Are you in this class, now?" Hermione seemed genuinely curious.

"Er . . . yeah," Harry said. "Professor Flitwick wanted me in fifth year Charms and this is the only class that fit my schedule . . . I think I may have some catching up to do, though. Professor Flitwick gave me what was covered last semester, and I don't know all of it."

"Oh, Ron and I can help you with that," Hermione said. " _Right,_ Ron?" she asked. When Ron didn't answer, she gave him a kick.

"Right," he grumbled, obviously not happy about it.

"So, have they moved you up in any other classes? Probably Potions, right? You must have gotten further ahead with homeschooling."

Harry shook his head, a little suspicious that Hermione might be rethinking who he actually was. "No, just this class. I guess my mom taught me more about Charms than anything else. Dad was going to move me up in potions, but . . . " Harry shrugged, mumbling, "Ravenclaws," without meaning to.

Hermione smiled, and Harry wondered if he should talk to Snape about what he overheard at Headquarters. He didn't think much about it at the time, but if Hermione and Ron still suspect . . .

Just as Hermione looked like she was going to ask more questions, Flitwick started class, and Harry took the best notes he could, feeling like he was much out of place. The Professor kept referencing things from last term that Harry only vaguely recognized and Harry wished he spent more time looking over the Charms books like Snape wanted him to do. At least when they finally got to trying to animate words on parchment, he was able to make the letters of his name jump, which was more than Ron was able to do. Hermione had managed to charm her entire name with different animations by the end of class.

When class ended, Harry tried to leave the classroom as fast as possible, but Hermione wouldn't allow that.

"Do you have another class to get to?" she asked, and Harry shook his head. Charms was the last class for the day until he had to meet up with Snape for Occlumency. "I was thinking I could get last my last semester's notes for you, if you want. And maybe the fourth year notes, too, since you skipped the entire year. You could never be too prepared."

"Sure," Harry said, torn between being happy and anxious.

"Great!" she answered. "I'll go get them. Meet you in the library in 20 minutes?"

"Sure," Harry said again, wondering if this really was a good idea. He didn't know why he was so nervous, though. He had been in the same house with Ron and Hermione for two weeks. _Maybe this just means I'll be able to be friends with them_ , Harry thought, although he was more nervous about Hermione prying.

Harry wandered to the library and paused near the tables. He wanted to just go back to Slytherin and hang out with Wyatt and Lucas, but he couldn't remember feeling so torn before.

He also wanted, desperately, to talk to Ron and Hermione about his visions and how Snape was acting like he cared – because he doubted they'd believe him, if they knew the truth – and he wanted to talk to Hermione about his decision to focus on his studies, even though at the moment, he had no real wish to study.

But getting better at magic would do more than show he was good at schoolwork or make Snape proud of him (although he had no idea where that thought came from). He felt he needed to protect himself: from those Ravenclaws, from just letting Voldemort kill him, from . . .

Even a week later, that disturbing vision still made him want to throw up. A curse like that didn't even seem like it would be possible, but it still happened. He needed to know, above everything else, that he could defend himself against something like that. Was there even a counter curse for something like that? Would a shield charm work?

Harry had to be honest; he didn't even know where to begin looking up stuff like that. He eyed the far corner of the library where the Restricted Section loomed ominously, like it was taunting him. He wouldn't even be able to manage sneaking in; Snape had his cloak.

He wasn't sure if he should ask Snape, either. Snape would probably say that he needed to focus on his schoolwork instead, because it was the _adults_ job to worry about that. But that hadn't really helped him in the past, had it?

Harry shook his head. He _didn't_ want to think about it. Voldemort wouldn't be able to find him, and he doubted, as awful as the Ravenclaws were, that they'd try to use a curse like _that_ on him.

It still made Harry's stomach churn.

"Hello, Tristan," Harry heard Malfoy say and Harry tried to plaster a smile on his face as he turned around.

"Hullo," he mumbled.

"Doing something in particular?"

"Waiting for somebody," Harry told him, not wanting to hear what Malfoy would have to say if he knew he was meeting up with a Gryffindor. Hermione, at that. Malfoy wouldn't let him go, though.

"So, I heard you're in fifth year Charms, now. With the _Gryffindors_. That must be awful." Harry wanted to start yelling at Malfoy, but after a few seconds he realized that Malfoy was trying to be sympathetic toward him, not antagonistic toward his friends. It was a thin line, Harry realized, but one was he getting used to now, being in Slytherin.

"It's alright," Harry said. "They mostly ignored me."

"Mostly?" Harry had to stop a sigh and he wondered if he would manage to get out of this conversation before Hermione and Ron showed up. It was just his luck that he suddenly saw Malfoy narrow his eyes and take on that over-confident, I'm-Better-Than-You posture and Harry turned around to see Hermione coming in their direction. Harry did groan that time. "She's bothering you?" Malfoy asked quietly, and Harry shook his head quickly.

"No, she offered to lend me her notes so I can catch up," Harry told him.

"Well, any one of us could have helped you with that," he said. "You should have just told her you didn't need help."

"I don't want to lie," Harry said, realizing how ironic that was; he seemed that all he did lately was lie. "And besides, Dad told me I better get along with them because he doesn't want me _causing trouble._ " Another lie. But he was sure Snape would back him on that, because Snape _didn't_ want him causing trouble. "You can stay and help, too, if you want."

Harry wanted to slap himself, wondering what possessed him to say such a thing.

"With _Granger?_ " Malfoy asked, and Harry had to stop himself from defending Hermione. "You _do_ know who that is, right? One of _Potter's_ friends?" It turned out that it hadn't been the worst thing to say. Yeah, it had moved the topic to himself – Harry Potter – but at least now he could pretend he didn't know . . . himself.

"Potter?" Harry asked, trying to sound confused. "Like _Harry Potter_?"

"Oh, right. You haven't seen him, have you?" Malfoy sounded disgusted that he even had to talk about him. "I don't know where they've manged to hide him, but he was at Hogwarts the last five years. Awful prat, that one. Thought he was better than everyone. I'm surprised you haven't heard more talk about him . . . although you are a lot younger."

"I'm thirteen!" Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

"But anyway, Granger is one of his close friends, and a _mudblood_ at that." Harry crossed his arms and glared at Malfoy. He couldn't even really say anything because his supposed mother was a pureblood, so Harry couldn't defend muggleborns as readily as he wanted to. Not that everyone in Slytherin was against muggleborns, but it came up enough that Snape gave him a way out of messes like this one. Like his sudden, and seemingly random animosity toward Malfoy. "What?" he asked.

"Dad says I'm not supposed to say that word," he told Malfoy, who simply shrugged.

"Well, you didn't say it, did you? I did."

"Yeah, but if someone _thinks_ I did and Dad heard . . ."

"Oh, relax, Tristan. If someone says something, I'll tell Professor Snape myself what happened, okay?" Harry shrugged. They had been talking quietly, but Hermione was too close for them to continue talking. She was glaring at Malfoy now. "If you're _sure_ you want to stay," Malfoy said with exasperation, and Harry nodded.

"She says she has fourth year notes, too, and last term you told me you don't keep old notes, otherwise you would have given me them."

"Figures Granger would have old notes. Sure, stay. Don't blame me if the Gryffindors decide to use you to get back at Professor Snape. I wouldn't put it past them," Malfoy said, then sauntered off before Hermione could tell him to sod off.

Harry looked at Hermione suspiciously. She had to have heard that. Thankfully – or not, Harry was still torn between what he wanted and what he _should_ want – she took the suspicion as him trusting Malfoy more than her rather than worry she was angry.

She was angry, Harry could tell, but she was trying to hide it.

"These are fourth year notes," she said tensely, putting three very, _very_ thick scrolls on the table Harry was standing next to, "and this is last term's notes. They're copies, so you don't have to worry about giving them back."

"Thank you," Harry said, but Hermione had already left and was several tables away by the time he looked up again. Harry sighed, hating Malfoy even more. Picking up the four heavy scrolls – he hoped that Hermione rolled all the individual pages together and hadn't copied the notes onto one _very_ long parchment – he shoved them into his bag and left the library, too, although not without another confused glance at the Restricted Section.

Wyatt was waiting for him in the common room when he finally arrived, and he pulled him into their dorm room immediately, closing the door behind them.

"I found it," Wyatt said, like they had been discussing a valuable lost artifact earlier. Harry hadn't a clue what his friend was talking about.

"Found what?"

"The perfect prank to get back at the Ravenclaws," Wyatt said, and Harry shrugged. He didn't want to talk about them at the moment. "Oh, come on. I thought you'd be excited."

"I'm tired," Harry told him. "It was my first day in Charms."

"Oh, yeah, with the fifth year Gryffindors. Were they awful?"

"No, but they might be now. Granger, of the girls in the class, said she'd lend me her old notes, and she over heard . . . Draco bad-talking her in the library when he was talking to me. She gave me the notes, but left right away, looking angry." Harry hated that he sounded more distraught by that than he should be.

"Well, she shouldn't have been eavesdropping, then," Wyatt said.

"She wasn't! I was meeting her in the library, so she could give me her notes. I don't want to fall even _further_ behind in class because I don't know everything from last term."

"Yeah, you probably should have been in Ravenclaw," Wyatt said. "Everything is about class with you." Harry crossed his arms and gave Wyatt at look, realizing that no one would have ever said that about him as Harry Potter. Harry Potter was, as everyone like to say, _the_ example of Gryffindor, which he didn't think was true. Especially now. "Look, you probably shouldn't be getting too friendly with Gryffindors, anyway. Think about what everyone would say. But on to more important matters – the Ravenclaws."

"I'm not going to prank them," Harry said as he followed Wyatt to his friend's bed, where there were several book spread out on the bed. "I don't want to get in trouble."

"We'll only prank them if they try something again," Wyatt said. "And anyway, no one would even know it was us. It's not like they teach us this stuff here, and my parents don't even know I took these books with me."

"What are they?" Harry asked. "More books like the one you lent me?"

"Not really. That was just useful spells. These are books my dad didn't want me learning until I'm older. He _says_ I don't know enough magic yet, but I thought with enough practice, we could get them right. So, it would be a long time before we could do the prank, anyway. It'd be nice to have it ready, though."

Harry shook his head. "I don't really want to think about the Ravenclaws right now," he admitted, but sat on the bed and picked up the closest of the three books, flipping through it. It was an _old_ tome, as were the other two, and Harry wondered if Wyatt's dad didn't want him touching them because it felt like the book was going to fall apart in his hands. "And won't your dad know these are missing?"

"No. He doesn't ever read these books. I think they used to be my great grandpa's or something. He won't even be looking for them, which is why I picked them."

"Right," Harry said, reading the paragraph in front of him.

 _It is argued that Dark Magic is only good for harm, but most don't understand the underlying principle. What is now called Dark Magic is, in truth, the original form of controlling the energies around us. This magic requires not only inherit magic ability, but the use of one's soul – emotions, mainly – to power the spells. Spells that don't require use of one's soul are easier to cast, and as our ancestors gained a better understanding of magic, use of those original spells began to dwindle._

 _Because of the nature of the newer form of magic – Light Magic, as it is often now called – some of the old spells could not be recreated and thus allowed a misunderstanding of what Dark Magic truly is. Often, Light Magic is used to counter Dark Magic, but by its nature, there is much that cannot be countered properly. An offensive Dark Spell can only be unraveled completely by a defensive Dark Spell, knowledge that has been mostly lost by the banning of the old spells._

Harry looked up at Wyatt, and then back down at the book. _There's defensive Dark Arts?_ Harry thought, trying to process. He looked at the cover of the book, but there was no title there, so he opened it back up to the page he was on, confused. The Dark Arts were evil, but . . . _Maybe the Dark Magic they are talking about here isn't the Dark Arts I know about_ , Harry decided. Still . . .

"Have you read these books?" Harry asked Wyatt. He shook his head.

"Like all the way? No. I was just looking at the spells and what they do."

"Can I borrow this book?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, go ahead. Getting ideas?" _Something like that_ , Harry thought.

Harry didn't have much time to look through the book during the next couple of days, much to his annoyance. Wyatt and Lucas kept trying to monopolize his time, plus homework and trying to get caught up in Charms, which was even harder when his thoughts wouldn't leave the book alone. In addition, he _had_ to practice clearing his mind, and every time he tried to do that, all he could think about was the corridor with the door. And Snape knew when he hadn't practiced enough.

It was all getting very frustrating.

Finally, it was Charms class again, and Harry dreaded it the entire walk there. When he saw Hermione waiting outside the classroom, everyone else inside, Harry considered skipping class and claiming he was sick, but Hermione saw him before he could turn around.

"Tristan, hi," she said. "Come sit with us again."

Harry followed her into the classroom, this time really suspicious of what she wanted. Class went well, except half the class kept glaring at him while they practiced, Ron included, but Hermione seemed especially cheerful. Like she was up to something.

Flitwick dismissed them and Hermione grabbed his arm as he went to stand. "I wanted to see what you thought of my notes, Tristian," Hermione said. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk about it."

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione started to pull him toward the door, and he had to quickly grab his bag so he wouldn't leave it behind. Ron followed as she dragged him down a floor into a dusty abandoned classroom. It looked like even the house elves hadn't touched it any time recently.

Harry watched with trepidation as Hermione cast some sort of charm on the door. _What are they doing_? Harry wondered, but from Ron's look, Harry gathered it was all Hermione's idea. Ron didn't want to be there, either.

"So, look, Tristan, we've been wanting to talk to you," Hermione said when she was done, and Ron made a throaty noise that indicated he _hadn't_ wanted to talk to him. Hermione gave him a look. "Well, I don't really know how to put this, but . . . we know Snape – your dad – he's in the Order, right? But you're still friends with Malfoy . . ." Harry just stared at her. She's going to go on about this now? "He's probably not the best sort to hang with, considering . . ." 

"Considering what?" Harry asked, trying to think fast. Snape made it clear that Tristan didn't know much about the war at all. He was to pretend that he knew nothing if it was ever brought up. "His dad and my dad are friends."

"Of course they are," Ron scoffed, and Hermione gave him another glare.

"Are they _really_ though? I heard that the Malfoys are Death Eaters . . ." Harry just continued to stare at her, trying to make his face as blank as possible. He did _not_ want to deal with this. Recently, it felt like he kept getting thrown into things he didn't want to deal with.

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me you don't _know_ ," Ron said suddenly, and Harry was at least glad he could pretend he didn't know anything well enough. "You were at Headquarters for _weeks_. Snape brought you to a meeting."

"Ron!" Hermione yelled. "Stop it." Harry quickly tried to remember if anyone had spoken anything about Voldemort or the Order or anything like that while he was at Headquarters.

They hadn't. Harry had been on his own most of the time, and nothing was ever said at dinner. The only times he had spoken to them were usually about schoolwork. Harry looked as Ron and Hermione glared at each other silently for a minute, feeling uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?" Harry finally asked, if for no other reason than to finish this conversation sooner.

"You mean you don't know?" Hermione asked. "Do you know why you stayed with us during Christmas?"

"My dad had work to do, and I guess he's friends with Mrs. Weasley. At least, that's what it sounded like." Ron scoffed again.

"Yeah, like Mom's friends with _Snape._ "

"Ron!" Hermione yelled again, this time hitting him on the arm.

"What's wrong with being friends with my dad?" Harry asked, feeling defensive despite knowing that he had felt the same at one point.

"Nothing, Tristan, Ron's just being a prat," Hermione told him. "Professor Snape's in the Order of the Phoenix, which is an organization against you-know-who."

"You're not wanting to be a Death Eater _yourself_ are you?" Ron asked and after Hermione went to smack him again, he sighed. "Look, sorry, I just find it hard to believe that you don't know any of this, considering."

"My dad doesn't tell me much," Harry said. "But . . . why are you talking about you-know-who? I thought it was just made-up that he was back."

"It wasn't," Ron spat. "You can't believe the Daily Prophet, or Umbridge or the Ministry."

"You-know-who is back, Tristan. It's just no one wants to believe it. You can't believe the stories that they're saying about Harry, either."

"Right . . ." Harry said slowly.

"Just . . . something to keep in mind, alright?" Hermione said, and Harry nodded as if he were reluctant to agree. After that, Hermione sighed and undid the spell on the door, letting him out of the classroom. Harry could tell that the meeting didn't go as Hermione had anticipated, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.


	15. Chapter 14 - On Respecting Privacy

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry about the long wait. Moving has been crazy and annoying, and I'm _still_ not finished unpacking. This chapter is slightly shorter than I usually like, but it was where it needed to end, and I hope you like it. More crazy stuff coming up. **

**I'll be getting back on the regular updates once I'm settled. Shouldn't be too long now. Actually, with where this is leaving off, I'm going to do my best to get you the next chapter in four days.**

 **Chapter 14 – On Respecting Privacy**

Harry sat on his usual spot, trying to concentrate on his charms book. The last day of term was tomorrow and Flitwick was giving a small quiz – not that he said what the quiz was going to be _about_ – but he couldn't help but be distracted by Snape's presence next to him on the sofa. It wasn't as if the man was especially close, or that he was glaring at him or anything. Nor was it anything unusual; Snape had come of the habit over the past month to sit next to him when Harry was in his rooms.

What was bothering Harry was that earlier, Snape had sat in the chair across from him, and Harry had blurted out, "Why are you sitting over there?" As if he _cared_ where Snape sat. His professor-father stared at him for what had to have been a full five minutes before standing and moving to the sofa, resuming his reading.

Harry wondered if he had a reasonable excuse to go back to the Slytherin dorms so early in the night, but he decided that it would only prove in incriminate him more, so he stayed where he was, trying to study. Finally, he slammed his book shut and sighed, hoping he knew the topics well enough for the term.

"Is something the matter, today?" Snape asked, and Harry jumped before looking at the man and blushing. _Why am I being so ridiculous?_ Harry wondered before shrugging. He really didn't care where Snape sat and he knew the material for tomorrow's quiz. _What_ is _my problem today?_ Harry wondered.

"I'm tired," Harry answered, realizing after he said it how true it was. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Are you not sleeping well?"

"Yeah," Harry said automatically. "No," he amended. Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry glared back. "I keep dreaming about a door. I think it's at the Ministry, but I've never been there, so I don't know why I think that."

"A door," Snape said flatly.

"Yeah, in this corridor that's kind of . . . I don't know . . . dank? Like it's underground. And I just _really_ want to see what's behind that door, but I can never get through it."

"Have you been clearing your mind before you go to sleep?" Snape sounded doubtful. "Your Occlumency has progressed reasonably. It should be second nature to do so before bed."

"I do," Harry said, not sounding convincing to himself. Snape looked angry, and Harry tried to think about how to avoid a fight. "I try. It's easy during the day, or what I'm concentrating on it, but when I'm tired and I try, all I can think about is the door, and then I end up dreaming about it again. Usually."

"And how long as this been occurring?" Harry didn't answer, because he knew Snape would be angry. "Why haven't you told me sooner?"

Harry shrugged. He honestly didn't know. Maybe he thought Snape didn't care to know? Looking down at his hands, Harry knew that was ridiculous. Snape always wanted to know about the visions and stuff.

The door felt like it should be _his_.

"We will have Occlumency tomorrow after classes," Snape said.

"Tomorrow's not an Occlumency day," Harry said, and Snape glared at him for speaking the obvious.

"For now, you are going to bed. Here, so I can keep an eye on you."

"It's only seven," Harry complained.

"You said you were tired." Harry sighed. Snape wasn't going to back down, and he _was_ tired, now that he admitted it. "I want you to clear your mind here before you go to your room. Perhaps that will help."

* * *

Harry sat in Charms, glad it was the last day of the term. He glanced at Ron and Hermione who sat a couple of seats in front of him, wondering if he'd be able to convince Snape to let him find a way to talk to them. Maybe, if he had some of his real hair, he could drink polyjuice or something.

The talk Hermione had with him that first week of fifth year Charms didn't lead to anything good. Harry ended up telling Snape about the conversation, who talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about it, which led to a very angry Ron and an irritated Hermione who now refused to do anything with him but glare across the room. Through everything, Harry wasn't sure if it made him depressed or relieved, but in any case, at least he had gotten Hermione's notes from her beforehand. They had helped a great deal.

Harry knew that there were better things to think about. Well, more important things, anyway. Like the fact that Dumbledore had disappeared and Umbridge had taken his place as Headmistress, or that Ron and Hermione had apparently been running a defense club in his name, or that the Daily Prophet had been printing lies about how Harry won't show his face because of the lies he made up about Voldemort. One of them even dared suggesting he had tried to raise Voldemort himself.

There were upsides to the term, he supposed. His grades were doing well. That actually was an upside. Harry's vow to focus on his studies hadn't waned, although he thought that Snape was a big factor in that, too. Every time Snape came across one of his well-marked essays or improved one of the basic potion recipes well enough, the look he would catch Snape giving him made hiv feel things that made him question his sanity. When, he wondered, did it matter to him that Snape thought he was doing well?

Harry jumped when Professor Flitwick called his name and he blushed when he realized that the professor had asked him a question.

"Sorry, sir, what's the question again?" Harry asked, and the students around him sniggered. He glared at them after Flitwick turned his back.

The rest of the day went by quickly, and Harry found himself in Snape's office for Occlumency. Harry had gotten better, to the point where even Snape had trouble breaking into Harry's mind when he didn't get distracted too much, but it didn't help stop the nightmares and images of that door, for which Snape was probably going to yell at him. Maybe more so, because last night was the first time he managed to get through the door and he still felt happy at the thought of the rows of glass orbs that lined the shelves.

Snape was staring at him from across the desk, as if trying to decide what to do next, and Harry fidgeted in his seat. He didn't know why he was so nervous. Finally, his professor walked over to one of the cupboards and put some memories into the pensieve as usual and turned to face him. Before Snape could say anything, though, the door burst open.

"Professor Snape!" Malfoy said. "Oh, hello, Tristan," he greeted Harry before he turned to find Snape. "Professor, they found Montague stuck in a toilet. Headmistress Umbridge needs your help." Snape sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning to Harry.

"Tristan, go back to the Slytherin dorms. I will fetch you when I am finished and we will pick up where we left off."

Without waiting for a response, Snape and Malfoy left and Harry sighed himself before his eyes caught on the pensieve. Snape had put more memories into than he normally did before one of their lessons, and Harry couldn't help but think that Snape might know something about the room filled with glass balls. Why else would he take out _more_ memories?

Angry that Snape was going to keep _more_ information from him – which was ridiculous, because Harry answered all the questions Snape threw his way, lately – Harry went over to the penseive and looked in. The light inside was beckoning, and Harry knew – _knew_ – that there was information in there that he needed. Harry kicked the wall before turning toward the door, wondering when Snape was going to be back. It couldn't be too easy to get a kid out of the toilet, could it? Harry only considered how Montague managed to get stuck in a toilet for a moment before turning back to the pensieve, making his decision.

Harry wasn't expecting what he got. Instead of information on the door or the room or anything to do with the Order, Harry found himself in one of Snape's memories from his fifth year. One where Sirius and his father were harassing Snape horribly. Harry could only watch with trepidation as his father held Snape up in the air magically and suddenly, the real Snape's hand was on his arm, squeezing tighter than he thought possible.

"What do you think you are doing?" Snape growled at him angrily. "Having a bit of _fun_?"

"No!" Harry said as Snape pulled him across the room toward the closed door.

"I don't know why I ever agreed to this arrangement," Snape hissed into his ear, the pain in his arm turning to numbness as Snape kept a hold of it.

"I didn't-"

"It's _over_ ," Snape said, finally letting go of Harry to push him away. Harry landed against the door hard, shocked, and it took a few moments to realize what Snape was saying. "After the end of the school year, you are back to being Harry Potter and I'll never have to look at your sorry face again," Snape said, looming over him.

"I – but I'll –" Harry couldn't continue, scared of the implications.

"You'll _what_?" Snape snarled.

"I can't come to Hogwarts as myself," Harry said in a whisper. In that moment, Harry wasn't sure if it was worse that he wouldn't be able to come back to Hogwarts or that Snape was angry at him, and it hated the feeling just the same.

"All the better," Snape spat, grabbing his arm again and Harry couldn't stop the cry of pain coming from his mouth.

"But I-"

"You'll _what_?" Snape asked again. "You'll let the Dark Lord _kill_ you if you come back to Hogwarts as yourself?" Snape gave a bitter laugh, the man's anger settling into something even more dangerous. "Perhaps you let him kill you because no one wanted to deal with a selfish, disrespecting brat like yourself," he spat, opening the door with a flick of his wand and pushing Harry out, the door slamming in his face when he went to stand and face his professor.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood out in the corridor, facing the door the Snape's office. He remembered that after a long while, Malfoy stumbled upon him.

"Tristan, what are you doing out after curfew?" he asked. Harry didn't answer, still staring at the door. He didn't know why he felt like the air had been sucked from the room. It didn't make sense that he should care so much that Snape was angry with him.

That Snape didn't want him anymore.

A voice in the back of Harry mind told him that Snape never wanted him, that he was only doing this because Dumbledore told him to, but Harry couldn't believe that.

"Did you need to speak with Professor Snape?" Malfoy asked, and Harry finally shook his head.

"We're done talking," Harry said quietly. "I was on my way back."

"He gave you a pass, then?"

Harry shook his head again. "We forgot. I didn't realize what time it was." Harry wondered if Malfoy could tell how false his voice was at the moment, but if he didn't, he didn't let on.

"Well, I'll walk you back. I'm doing rounds, so I'm allowed to be out. If any of the professors ask, I'll just let them know I was escorting you from Professor Snape's office."

"Which is true," Harry pointed out, a bit flatter than he wanted.

* * *

"Tristan," Snape said, his voice surprising soft. Harry looked up from his cauldron, wondering if Snape had forgiven him. It had been nearly of month of Snape avoiding Harry except to put on a show of being a father in front of others, but this was the first time the man had addressed him in class. "I have that book you were wondering about in my office. Come after your classes," he said, and Harry nodded, wondering what book he was talking about, as he never asked for a book. Or was that just Snape's way of letting him know he wanted to talk to him?

Still, Harry felt a little better than he had all month, almost hopeful, even though he was extremely tired. Clearing his mind had been even harder after the Incident – because Harry didn't know what else to call it – and he had been sleeping less. His scar had started hurting more during the visions, and it nearly felt as if the dream with the door and the room full of glass was fighting his attempts at forgetting it. Like it had a mind of its own.

It was quite unsettling, and even more so now that Harry realized this and he couldn't go the Snape.

 _Its no matter_ , Harry thought. _Maybe Snape has forgiven me, and if not, I'll . . . say I'm sorry and then I'll tell him . . ._

Harry shook his head, trying to not get his hopes up. It didn't matter if Snape forgave him. He managed 14 years without the help of any adult, he'd continue on just fine.

That evening, Harry went to Snape's office and knocked on the door. It opened a minute later, and Snape glared down at him. Harry took a step back, surprised at the ferocity of it, and Snape looked up and down the corridor.

"What are you doing here?" he spat so quietly that Harry was sure that even if there was something else in the corridor, they wouldn't have been able to hear him.

"You – you said you come by after classes," Harry stuttered, regretting the decision. Snape gave that dangerous, bitter laugh again.

"Yes, for a book you _asked_ about." The man's voice was filled with sarcasm. "Don't come here again," Snape said, and slammed the door in his face.

Harry made it back to his dorm without anyone seeing him, thankfully, because by the time he managed to curl up on his bed with the curtains closed, he realized that his face was damp with tears and he couldn't breathe through his nose it was so stuffed up from crying.

Harry let himself cry, not sure why it felt so much worse this time.

It didn't matter. He would let himself cry now, because the crying was helping, and tomorrow, he'd forget about Snape. Maybe he'd beg forgiveness from the Dursleys and they would take him back, and if not . . .

Harry didn't want to think about the future, because he was sure it wasn't anything pleasant.


	16. Chapter 15 - A Disquietting Visit

**A/N: Next chapter, on time! Yay! Hopefully it went alright. I feel like it's difficult to pull off a realistic you-know-who in the sense that he's quite good at pretending he's not crazy. Not that he thinks himself as crazy, mind you.**

 **I have a chunk of this story (Harry's new 4th year) planned out in my head so far. It might still be awhile before Snape and Harry really start getting along, sorry. They just can't seem to manage it quite yet. Stuff will happen that will change that . . . eventually. You'll have to stick around to find out how ;) Expect drama and hatred in between pretending not to care and wishing someone did care before things might start to settle down. Hehe. Anyway, other plot lines will continue to unfold around them; life will continue. I'll try to make it as interesting as possible.**

 **Oh, and thank you everyone for the reviews! For those of you who don't see where this story is going, everything will wrap up in the end . . . the main plot having to do with Harry's vision in the prologue (it's only sort-of a reason to shove Harry and Snape together. hehe). I might up the rating to Mature; not for anything graphic, but I feel unsure of the line between T and M in reference to uncomfortable/dark topics . . . if certain situations are only being implied, does that leave it at T?**

 **Anyway, my thoughts for later. Hopefully you'll enjoy the chapter.**

 **Chapter 15 – A Disquieting Visit**

Harry sat in the common room listening to Wyatt and Jake talk about the quidditch win with little interest. It had been the last quidditch game of the school year and it put Slytherin on top for the cup this year, and Harry tried his best to look excited. Thankfully, they hadn't noticed his new found apathy towards everything, but that was probably because he had been spending most of his time in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons as opposed to actually being good at pretending he was fine. They just assumed he was with Snape.

"I'll talk to you two later, okay?" Harry said suddenly, picking up his backpack and they nodded.

"See you, Tristan," Wyatt said.

Ten minutes later, Harry was in his classroom, feeling something was off. It took him a few minutes to realize there was a backpack by the entrance. A backpack that wasn't his. He turned around to see if someone was hiding in the room.

"Hello, Tristan," said Donald Rowe. A fifth year Ravenclaw, Harry thought. "So, we were wondering what the problem between you and your father was," he said slowly. "Because suddenly, it seems, you two aren't talking. Two months in an awfully long time to not talk to your father when you see him every day . . ."

"None of your business, Rowe," Harry said. The boy was about a foot taller than him and looked strong, and Harry wondered how he was going to get out of this one. Even if Rowe didn't pull his wand, he was sure he could hurt him without much effort.

"Oh, but I think it is," Rowe said. "You see, you can continue to stand beside him, despite his – is it demeaning? – attitude towards you. But then, well, of course you'd still have to deal with _us_ , and I don't think he's going to be of much use protecting you anymore, will he?" Rowe pause, probably for dramatic effect, but after years of dealing with Snape, it didn't quite work the same. "Or you could help us."

"How?" Harry asked after a minute.

"We'll let you know," Rowe said. "You have the summer to decide; We have to focus on exams."

Rowe left, then, picking up his backpack on the way out, and Harry stared after him, not terribly impressed by the older boy's intimidation techniques. Still, with what they had done in the past, Harry was sure the threat was real, which made things worse.

And he could have _sworn_ Snape said that _all_ of the Ravenclaws shouldn't be after him, just the ones from his year, so what was a fifth year doing, threatening him?

Harry sighed. Going to Snape was out of the question, because he'd probably find a way to encourage the Ravenclaws to attack him with how things were going, and Dumbledore wasn't there. Like hell he was going to Umbridge and McGongall would just tell him to speak to Snape . . . He didn't feel like including his friends, because they'd continue looking at it as if it was some sort of prank-war, and Ron and Hermione wouldn't talk to him.

Harry kicked the wall. He felt like he'd been doing that quite a bit lately. He vaguely wondered if the castle took offense.

It was nearly a week later when Harry sat on the floor of his classroom, cushioning charm below him, a book in hand. Harry wasn't sure how his luck stayed with him as he followed a seventh year Hufflepuff, who had a pass, into the Restricted Section of the library. His disillusionment charm had worked well enough the girl didn't even realize Harry was perusing the books not ten feet away from her. She stayed longer than he would have liked – nearly an hour, the whole while Harry nervous he was going to get caught – but he managed to find a few books of interest.

Harry was sure that if Ron and Hermione ever found out about his current interest in the Dark Arts, they would freak. Snape would probably try to get him expelled – not that it mattered at that point, it was near the end of the school year, and he doubted anyone would look into what books he was checking out. He decided that after he left Hogwarts, he could buy his own books. Yes, it would be a year or so before he'd be allowed to do magic again, but he could wait.

Not that he really intended to _use_ any of the spells. Well, not _on_ anyone, anyway. For some reason – because he couldn't really explain it to _himself_ why he found it so interesting – he was fascinated by Defense spells that were actually Dark . . . and he found it disturbing that the spells they taught normally wouldn't help much if one of those Dark Arts curses actually got through a shield. The magic was simply too complex.

Problem was, although the books he borrowed from _ explained the theory of these counter curses and defense spells, they didn't go into detail as to what they _were_. Or if they really existed, and Harry found himself nearly obsessed.

A couple hours later, Harry woke with a start, panicking.

Voldemort had Sirius!

Without thinking, Harry darted out into the corridor to find it empty. Not knowing where else to go, Harry ran as fast as he could to Snape's office and pounded on the door.

Nothing. Not that he expected Snape to answer if he knew it was him, but could Snape know?

Desperate, Harry jogged to Snape's rooms and knocked on that door for a few minutes, thinking that an annoyed Snape would eventually open the door, but nothing there, either. He gave the door a quick kick before pacing the corridor. He didn't know how else to check to see if Voldemort really had Sirius. He could try flooing Grimmauld Place if he had any floo powder, but he didn't. Didn't even know where he _could_ get some.

Going to Ron and Hermione would be too suspicious, although . . .

 _No_ , Harry thought. As much as he wanted them to know . . .

After an hour of pacing the school, the corridors oddly quiet – he suspected Umbridge had something to do with that – Harry found himself down by the lake, mind quiet and clear.

It had been dark for awhile by the time Harry decided he should go inside. He had managed to calm himself, remembering that Snape had thought that Voldemort might someday be able to plant visions in his head, and Harry had to admit that had he had more resources, he might have gone after Sirius to try to save him, but there were too many inconsistencies, he realized, after he thought about it.

For one, Sirius from the vision seemed wrong; too young, maybe, too crazy looking. Kind of like he did in the prophet his first third year.

Harry was close to the entrance when he saw him. In the dark, it took a minute to recognize who it was, but the closer he got, Harry wondered if he should stay out for a bit longer to avoid Mr. Malfoy. It really was starting to get chilly, though.

Before Harry could make a decision, Malfoy must have spotted him, because the man stop walking and Harry nearly ran into him before he realized he stopped.

"Well, this is good luck if I've ever had it," Malfoy said. "Hello, Tristan."

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, wondering how Snape was going to explain to Malfoy – and Voldemort – how he no longer had a son. "Visiting?" he managed to get out. It was better than the, 'What are you doing here?' that almost escaped his lips.

"Yes. I've come to speak with your father. And you."

"Me?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling scared. Did Malfoy know who he was? Did Voldemort? Harry hushed the voice in his mind; as Snape's 'son', of course Malfoy might want to talk to him.

"Yes, you. Actually, I'm glad I found you outside," the man said, grabbing his arm and started walking him toward the front gate. "Although I do plan on telling your father where I found you, I doubt he'd be pleased. It is rather late."

"Yeah, my dad will be looking for me . . ." Harry said, his voice cracking. _Where is Malfoy bringing me_?

"Do not worry," Malfoy said. "I will inform him of your location after I deliver you." Malfoy seemed to notice that he wasn't calming, because the man stopped suddenly and knelt in front of him. It was a very odd gesture from someone who was attempting to kidnap him. "I said do not worry, Tristan."

"Where . . . where are you taking me?" Harry asked, wishing the grip on his arm would loosen. He thought that if it did, he could try to make a run for the castle. If he was careful, maybe any curses Malfoy would send him way would miss.

"The Dark Lord is looking forward to meeting you."

"W-what?" Harry managed to get out. Malfoy seemed like he genuinely believed that, so maybe the man didn't know who he was, but if Voldemort wanted to see him . . .

"It's an honor, Tristan," Malfoy said flatly, standing. "I understand you're scared, and finding you outside is making this quicker, but the quicker we are, the better his mood will be. Come along.

Malfoy had to tugged him along in order to get his feet moving again, and Harry was sure his feet were only moving out of automatic response to not wanting to be dragged.

His mind felt oddly calm and blank for someone who was walking into their own death.

Malfoy got them through the gate with no problem, much to Harry's dismay. The Ministry – or Umbridge? – must have given him permission to come onto the grounds.

"Am . . . I'm not – er – allowed to leave the grounds," Harry managed to get out as they crossed the threshold.

"No one, except your father, will know you have left, Tristan. Now, do your best to behave yourself. The Dark Lord has been wanting to meet you, and would have asked your father to bring you, but it'd be better this way. Less suspicious."

Harry only had a second to wonder how it would be suspicious that Snape would take his son off Hogwart's property when Malfoy apparated without warning.

They arrived outside a small house, and Harry couldn't help but think how muggle-looking it looked. As soon as he remembered why he was there, Harry tried to clear his mind as best as he could, it not lost on him that he hadn't been practicing much at all these days, nor had Snape finished teaching him the proper way to occlude.

He could prevent Snape from entering his mind most the time, but they hadn't gotten any further.

"Stay on your best behavior," Malfoy whispered, "and be respectful. Address him as, 'My Lord', and don't look him in the eye unless he tells you to look at him."

Harry felt mildly relieved that he wouldn't be expected to be looking _at_ Voldemort right away.

Hopefully Voldemort would make it quick and just kill him right away.

He wished Malfoy would let go of his arm, so he could at least _try_ to run away. They were, unfortunately, somewhere in the woods, which left out running to the closest house and pounding on the door to ask for help, Harry thought, half amused, remembering what teachers would tell kids to do when he was in primary school. He imagined pounding on the door of some muggle, yelling that he needed to find an owl and get a hold of Dumbledore right away!

Harry wondered if the stress was causing him to go mad.

Voldemort was in the first room as they walked in, and he turned to face them slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Dark Lord watching him silently, and Harry wondered if his heart was still beating or the empty buzzing in his head was something else.

"Luciuss, you may leave. I will call you when it iss time to collect him,"

"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy said, finally letting go of him arm and bowing. Before Harry could convince his feet to run, Malfoy had left and the door was now closed. Probably warded.

"Trissstan Ssssnape, yes?" Voldemort said slowly, drawing out his name.

"Y-yes, my Lord," Harry managed to whisper. It suddenly dawned on him that there was no one else in the room and no one had attempted to take his wand away from him. That made him feel a bit better. He probably couldn't beat Voldemort, but at least he'd be able to give a fighting chance if it came to it.

He stood straighter.

"You are, perhapsss, wondering why I wished to meet you so sssoon," Voldemort said.

"Yes, my Lord," Harry said, a little louder this time, although now that he could think straight, he felt sick saying it. But, if Voldemort wanted to play this game, Harry could play it, too.

 _There's no proof that he thinks you're Harry Potter,_ he thought to himself, then started the mantra of _I'm Tristan Snape_ in his head to remind himself.

Voldemort paused for a minute. "You brought a book," he said, and Harry look down at the book he was holding over his right arm. Over the anxiety from earlier that day, and from being kidnapped, Harry had forgotten he was still carrying the library book. "I did not ask for you to bring your own . . . _entertainment._ "

Harry shook his head and mumbled, "I forgot I was carrying it . . . my Lord," before he heard an odd noise coming from the snake-like man in front of him.

Voldemort was chuckling. Apparently, he found Harry amusing; Harry found that angered him.

"Let me see the book, Tristan," Voldemort said in a soft voice, and Harry cautiously stepped forward, holding the book out as if it were poisonous. Or as if he touched Voldemort, he would burst into flames.

While Voldemort looked through the book, Harry took a deep breath and looked around, confident that – at least – his enemy wasn't about to kill him on the spot. He knew the soft-tone Voldemort was taking was false, knew the man was capable of so much horror, his visions being proof of that, but he also knew how manipulative he could be. There was very little doubt in Harry mind right now that Voldemort wanted something from him; whether it was to determine what his true identity was or . . . for some plan against Snape . . . or . . .

Harry stopped himself from thinking about that and Occluded the best he could.

He was Tristan Snape. He was meeting his father's master. He should be honored.

Harry kept repeating that to himself. Perhaps, he thought, if he thought it enough he could convince himself, at least temporarily, that it was true.

Voldemort chuckled again. The sound didn't comprehend correctly in Harry's mind; it was like a cold fire, or breathing underwater or burning snow.

"I could ssuggest better books . . ." Voldemort said slowly. "Did your father give you this?"

"I snuck it out of the Restricted Section," Harry said honestly. He considered saying that Snape would say he was too young.

"Good." Voldemort even managed to draw that word out. "I do believe you have great potential, Tristan." Pause. "Look at me."

Harry continued to clear his mind as he looked up. He felt a slight probe on his mind, and tried to think about his pretend mother, what their relationship supposedly was, on top of keeping his mind clear of everything else. He supposed some fear got out, too, because he could quite quench his, but a minute later, Voldemort seemed satisfied enough.

Forcing himself not to sigh out loud, Harry felt he had enough like that Voldemort barely pushed into his mind. Didn't expect resistance, so took what he felt at face value.

Harry couldn't help but feel himself a bit _too_ lucky.

* * *

Severus answered the door to his rooms, unexpectedly finding Lucius on the other side.

"Lucius," he said, pretending to be pleased at the intrusion. "An unexpected surprise."

"Severus," he greeted. "May I come in?"

"Of course."

They sat, Severus taking his usual seat, Lucius taking the corner of the couch that Potter used to occupy. Severus tried not to sneer at the thought.

"I must say, you may want to keep a better eye on young Tristan. I found him wandering the ground in the dark."

"Ah," Severus said, pretending to himself he hadn't been wondering why the brat had not been at dinner. "I expect he made it to the dorms safely?"

"That's one of the issues I wish to speak with you about," Lucius said, "but first . . . any news on Potter?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "None. If he's at a muggle school, I have not been told which one, nor have they told me if he's simply hiding. Any particular reason?"

"Our Lord left a trap for him today, tried to lure him to the Department of Ministries," Lucius waved his hand as if it didn't matter. "He didn't show, although we do have eyes watching in case he arrives later."

"And of Tristan?" Severus asked. He'd rather not deal with the boy, but Severus – no matter how angry he was at the disrespectful urchin – he needed to ensure the boy's safety. He had promised, after all. At least until he could dump to boy back to Albus.

"Ah, yes," Lucius said, stalling. Severus narrowed his eyes again.

"Yes," Severus said slowly.

"He's perfectly safe, I assure you, although if I had the time, I would have warned you beforehand . . ."

"Lucius," Severus warned. His thoughts were dark as he waited the few seconds it took for the Malfoy Head to respond.

"The Dark Lord wish to see him, and ordered that I brought Tristan to see him."

Severus, despite everything, felt his heart drop into his stomach and he stood, feeling as if he didn't move, his heart would surely stop. The Dark Lord had set a trap for Potter. Potter had been outside. Attempting to find a way to the Ministry? Severus shook his head, hoping his voice would stay calm.

"He's thirteen. What use could he be to the Dark Lord?" A flat voice was better than a high pitched squeal, in any case. Not that he squealed, no matter how stressed; he had too much control for that.

"I don't know Severus. I think he merely wished to speak with him. He has mentioned considering a talk with Draco in the past. He stopped when he heard about Tristan, thought."

Severus caught eyes with Lucius, something odd in the man's eyes. Fear, but not quite. Almost resentment. Hatred.

Lucius seemed to interpret his worry as a similar feeling, because he sighed, dropping back into his seat. Severus hadn't seen when he had stood.

"They're _both_ too young," Lucius said. "We were adults when we first met with him, and sometimes . . ." Lucius stopped himself before he said something incriminating.

 _Interesting_ , Severus thought.

"You brought him to the Dark Lord and left him there? Alone?" Severus asked, playing on the issue of the boy being too young.

He tried not to think about the Dark Lord discovering the secret. Tried not to imagine Potter being dragged to a dungeon after hours of pain; revenge for his past transgressions.

"The Dark Lord will call me when he's ready for me to bring him back," Lucius said. They sat in silence for near ten minutes. "Perhaps he does merely wish to get to know the next generation," he said, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself.

Severus couldn't managed to think the lie. As each minute ticked by, Severus tried to stop thinking about different approaches he could take in breaking the news to Albus Dumbledore how he managed to allow Harry Potter to be kidnapped from from the school grounds and hadn't noticed.

He eyed his liquor cabinet near the kitchen, deciding against a drink. He would have offered Lucius one, though – perhaps a drink laced with a pain-inducing potion – if it weren't for the fact that Lucius would have to apparate the brat back.

If the brat was lucky enough to still be alive.


	17. Chapter 16 - Falling Out of Luck

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I made it to 100 reviews! Thank you everyone who has been reviewing, I love reading them. Encourages me to keep up on my updates. Hehe.**

 **Anyway, another hard chapter . . . I wrote the first half in no time at all and then spend days on the next page where Snape and Harry are together . . . man, they're being difficult. I suppose I don't know what else I'd expect, though. It is Snape and Harry.**

 **Oh, and I feel compelled to mention that this is _NOT_ a Malfoy-mentors-Harry story. Just in case any confusion comes into play. **

**Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 16 – Falling Out of Luck**

Severus drank his tea quietly, Lucius still sitting across from him, tea untouched in his hand. Several times the man appeared to want to say something but never did. Watching Lucius stare at his tea, Severus wondered if the cause of his uneasiness was, in fact, Tristan's visit with the Dark Lord.

He checked the time again. Potter had been with the Dark Lord for over an hour, now, and he shoved his worry down in favor of trying to dissect Lucius' actions. If anything, it appeared that Lucius disapproved of the Dark Lord's interest in their children.

Severus wondered if he could persuade the man to reveal anything.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"Stay out of sight," Severus said. Lucius did say he had permission to be at Hogwarts, but he would rather not have those he worked with daily speculate. Standing slowly, Lucius took his tea to the bedroom, still deadly silent.

Answering the door, he found a frantic Minerva.

"Severus! Have you heard the news?" Minerva sounded devastated. Looking closer, he could tell she had been crying. Was on the edge of crying, even now.

Severus stepped aside to let Minerva in, assuming they did not want any students to overhear their conversation. He only hoped that nothing important to revealed to Lucius. "I have not heard news of any sort," Severus answered. He ushered her to sit on the couch and poured her a cup of tea. She took it, but ignored it.

He found it rather frustrating how open other let their emotions be. Severus himself found the act of drinking tea to be rather focusing.

"It's Potter," Minerva said, and Severus nearly dropped the kettle. Slowly, he refreshed his own tea and set the kettle down. Minerva begun crying again, and Severus tried to wait patiently for her to finish to learn the news.

"I don't suppose you wish to tell me what of Potter's concerns me? I'm sure you know I do not know his location."

"We were assured he was safe!" Minerva said, sounding much younger than her years. "You-Know-Who left his body near the entrance to the Ministry of . . ." she settled into her crying again, and Severus passed her a handkerchief, trying to rationalize what Minerva had just told him.

Potter.

Severus found himself having trouble breathing.

His body was found at the Ministry. Dead? Why else would she say 'body'?

But it would take more than the hour it had been to reverse all those potions, he told himself. And they would have to know which potions were used to make him Tristan Snape. And _that_ information was securely locked up.

If Potter was truly was dead, they would have announced Tristan as being dead.

 _So, who's body did they find?_

It was another half an hour before Severus calmed Minerva down enough to convince her to take the night off and sleep. Students and assignments would be there in the morning, although he doubted that with an announcement like this, there would be classes tomorrow.

Lucius came out of the bedroom after she left, looking more stressed than when he went into it.

"I thought you said Potter didn't fall for the trap?" Severus asked as calmly as he could.

"He didn't," Lucius said. "A relief, though, right? One less thing to anger the Dark Lord." Lucius' voice cracked at the end, and Severus gave him a questioning look.

"One would think you cared Potter died," Severus told him, regretting it moments later. He wasn't sure he wanted to push the older wizard today.

"I didn't, you know that. Just relieved." Lucius was lying, but he didn't know why. He was sure that Malfoy had no interest in the Potter boy outside the Dark Lord's obsession. "I should go. I need to be ready when the Dark Lord calls. I would rather not stall retrieving him." Lucius looked at his sideways. "You don't think . . ." Lucius voice was barely a whisper, and he cleared his throat. "You don't think Tristan witness what happened?"

Severus stared after the wizard as he left. Lucius didn't care about Potter, he cared about Tristan.

Or, more likely, what it might mean for Draco if the Dark Lord is allowing a thirteen year old child to partake in torture and killing.

Severus eyed his liquor cabinet again. It was beginning to be awfully hard to stay away.

* * *

Harry sat across from Voldemort, tea in hand. He told himself he was only drinking it because he poured it himself, from the same kettle the Voldemort had pour his own tea out of and had been drinking from for the last few minutes, but he probably would be drinking it if Voldemort had given him the full cup himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to do something wrong, no matter how he knew Moody would be cursing him at the moment; he felt a deceptively calm Voldemort was his lifeline. If Voldemort wanted to poison him, he'd be free to do so without spiking his tea.

Harry himself had calmed down a bit; Voldemort didn't seem to want to do him any harm, at least tonight. It was quite disconcerting, but Voldemort had spent the evening asking him questions and letting him look through books – gruesome books, much to Harry's displeasure, although it seemed to amuse the Dark Lord in front of him.

Harry felt his fear slowly taint with anger throughout the night, but Harry knew that giving any indication he disliked the man in front of him could very well mean his death.

Still sure the Voldemort might suspect something, Harry answered the questions carefully. Some were about his studies at school, other delved into what he knew of the Dark Arts. The clock in the corner of the room read ten o'clock. Ten at night, which meant he had been there three hours.

A three hour tea with Voldemort. Harry was stressed enough he almost started laughing at the thought. He managed to quell it, thinking about what Voldemort might do if he got angry.

He continued carefully side-stepping Voldemort and waited for a dismissal. Finally, Voldemort called Malfoy back, who arrive in less than a minute. Harry figured he must have been waiting outside.

It wasn't until they were outside the gates of Hogwarts that Harry allowed himself a full breath. He felt tears roll down his cheeks, and he wiped them away as quick as he could.

He had been face to face with Voldemort and was still alive. Harry wasn't sure he ever felt more relief in his life.

Malfoy was suddenly kneeling in front of him. He had forgotten the man was still there.

"How are you, Tristan? Are you alright?" Malfoy's voice was softer than he had ever heard it. He simply shrugged. He wasn't sure he could ever put into words how he felt at that moment, not that he would tell Mr. Malfoy if he could.

Even if Malfoy was using his thumb to wipe the still-falling tears from his eyes. Even if Malfoy pulled Harry toward him in one of the most comforting hugs he could remember. He closed his eyes and pretended it wasn't one of Voldemort's own followers with his hand on his head. Pretended he didn't wish it was Snape.

 _Snape_ , Harry thought, tensing. Malfoy released him from the hug, standing, but Harry was distracted, not caring. What was Snape going to do to him? Did his professor already know where he had gone?

"Let's go find your father," the man said, ushering him toward the castle.

They managed to make it to the door of Snape's rooms without passing anyone, but considering how late it was, Harry wasn't surprised.

Malfoy knocked three times. The door was open before he finished the third knock.

"Inside," Snape said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as soon as the door closed. The grip was harsh, nails nearly digging through his robes.

"Back safe," Malfoy said. "I should be going."

"Of course," Snape said. "Good night, Lucius."

"Severus," Malfoy nodded and left, leaving him alone with Snape. _Not as scary as Voldemort_ , Harry told himself, but he refused to look at Snape as he sat him down on the couch, sitting across from him. He thought he could feel the anger coming from the man, but Snape was hiding it well. He didn't seem like he was going to yell at him, at any rate.

"Are you unharmed?" Snape asked flatly. Harry could feel Snape looking over him carefully. Still refusing to look at Snape, Harry nodded.

Snape kept quiet for a few minutes.

"What were you doing on the grounds after dark?" Snape asked, his tone, Harry realized, was not as even now that he found out no harm had come to him. "I was told a trap had been set for you; if you were planning on doing _anything_ , especially as _Tristan Snape_ , it-"

"I figured out it was a trap!" Harry interrupted, finally looking at Snape. He decided he shouldn't have. Snape's glare was worse than tea with Voldemort. "I fell asleep and had a vision that Sirius had been captured at the Department of Mysteries, and I came looking for you, but you weren't in your office or rooms, so I went to the lake to try to calm down and decide what to do and realized it was a fake vision!"

"If I wasn't in my office, I was at dinner," Snape said harshly. "As were your friends. Where had you fallen asleep that they failed to wake you for dinner?"

Harry didn't answer until he looked at Snape again and saw that if he didn't, he would probably pay.

"I've been studying in an old classroom," Harry said, but he wasn't going to tell Snape the reason. The man had no right to know.

"And then you ran into Lucius Malfoy and willing left the grounds with him."

"He basically _dragged_ me off the grounds," Harry said, defending himself. "I tried to tell him you would be looking for me, even though I knew you wouldn't be." Harry found himself bringing up his anger at Snape without meaning to. If Snape hadn't been so horrible . . .

Snape's glare was even worse.

"You _knew_ I wouldn't be looking for you? Even after you weren't at dinner, probably getting into trouble? Which, of course, you were."

"I had no control over what happened!" Harry yelled, standing up. "If you weren't so _awful_ , maybe I wouldn't have been outside! Tea with _Voldemort_ was better than dealing with you!" Harry spat, only realizing what he said seconds after it left his mouth. Snape . . .

Snape had gone dark. Harry didn't know how else to explain it. The man's already stiff stature got stiffer, he face so blank with his eyes so full of anger and hatred that Harry wondered if he was possessed by a demon. Slowly, Snape stood and Harry retreated at far as he could into the sofa, but Snape was walking toward the door.

"If that is how you feel," Snape said, "I will leave you to your own devices. I will not try to interfere when the Dark Lord wishes to see you again. I will tell him, in fact, that you enjoyed your time with him immensely, when he asks, and are looking forward to your next opportunity to grovel at his feet." Snape's voice was so even, so falsely polite, Harry didn't doubt that Snape would.

Snape was going to encourage Voldemort to continue his interest in Tristan, even if it was because he thought he was Harry Potter.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his voice coming out so soft that he doubted Snape could hear him.

"Oh, I doubt that," Snape said with a smile that said he would enjoy witnessing any and all abuse Voldemort plans to throw his way. Snape opened the door. "Out."

Harry couldn't move, even if he wanted to.

"I said," Snape said, the dangerous smile leaving his face, his expression turning deadly, "get out. If I see you outside of class again, without it being necessary to cover this pathetic game we've been playing, you will regret it."

Harry walked shakily, knowing that once he left through that door, that was it. He would have no chance of convincing Snape to help him, and no one else to go to without revealing the number of laws they had broken to hide him.

Harry approached Snape, trying to think through the haze in his mind about what he could say to Snape.

He could only think of one thing.

"I'll do a-"

"And if," Snape interrupted, his voice a dangerous whisper, his face inches from Harry's, "you try to go to _anyone_ else, either to avoid any future meeting with the Dark Lord, or to tell anyone of your true identity, I will have you committed to St. Mungos for insanity. You do, of course, have no way to prove you are Harry Potter. Perhaps your Gryffindor friends would believe you, but I assure you, no adult would."

Harry was in the corridor before he realized what happened. Harry stood there, scared and at a complete loss of what to do about it, until he heard Filch's voice down the corridor. Automatically, Harry rushed towards the Slytherin common room, sneaking pass the older students who were giving him reproving looks and into is bed, pulling the curtains closed. He knew he'd have to answer to his friends the next morning on where he'd been, but he'd think up a lie for that tomorrow.

Harry wondered when he life became more lies than truths.

* * *

Harry managed to get out of going to the Great Hall for breakfast, telling his friends he was getting nervous about the upcoming exams and that he was going to the library; They rolled their eyes, but promised to bring him food if he promised to show up with enough time to eat it before their next class. Harry agreed, reluctantly, and wandered toward the library.

He didn't have a plan to actually study. Harry knew he would pass his exams without any trouble; his study habits lately have been less actually wanting to do well and more needing something to distract him from the nightmare of his life, but the result was the same.

He did not expect what he was walking into.

"Hermione, let's at least go to the Great Hall," Ginny said. Her voice sounded like she had been crying. "There's nothing we can do about it in the library, whether or not it's true. Professor McGonagall should be in the Great Hall, she's usually there for breakfast, we can ask her if it _is_ true. She might know."

"But it doesn't make any sense," Hermione wailed. "I had thought they _must_ be keeping him safe."

Harry approached slowly, wondering what was going on.

"There's a body," Ron said painfully. "It has to be true. The Ministry wouldn't have said anything if the body was a fake. They would have done all sorts of tests on it, and that sort of thing wouldn't be easy to fake. Most magic that changes a person's looks changes back as soon as they're dead. Even Polyjuice.

Harry looked amazed at Ron, surprised he would know something like that. It took a few extra seconds to realize they were talking that someone had _died_. Dreading what he was about to learn – who was it? Dumbledore? Hagrid? He couldn't remember the last time he saw the half giant – Harry walked closer, the five students there paying him no mind. They never did, usually.

"But if I could just _prove_ that it's _possible_ , maybe I could bring that information to the Ministry and they could test it . . ." Hermione said, panicking.

"Hermione," Fred said sadly.

"They would have wizards on staff who would know what it would take, and they would have tested for it," George said.

"We heard Flitwick talking to Hooch this morning. I guess Flitwick tried to offer his assistance in determining if it was true," Fred continued, "but everything he suggested, they already tried."

"Oh!" Hermione said, throwing down the book she was holding. Ginny hugged her, and they started crying. "You know as well as I do that the Ministry is incompetent," she said into Ginny's shoulder.

Harry finally gained the courage to talk.

"What happened?" Harry asked, and the five Gryffindors looked at him.

"Oh, Tristan, it's horrible!" Hermione said, obviously forgetting that she wasn't talking to him. "Harry was killed! They found his body outside the Ministry of Magic last night!"

Harry was quite sure the world ended for a minute. Or, at least, all his air was taken away, which didn't make sense, because he could still see everyone else breathing.

 _What_?

"What?" Harry asked, his voice disbelieving. He tried to get himself into the frame of mind of Tristan. "But I . . ." Harry wanted to tell his friends right there that _he_ was Harry Potter. He _couldn't_ be dead, because if he was, how would he be talking to him. What Snape said last night stuck in his brain, though.

 _Even if your friends believe you, no adult would_ . . .

Did Snape fake his death? Harry found himself on the verge of anger before he shook his head to clear the thought. Snape _wouldn't_ fake his death, because then Harry couldn't go back to being Harry Potter, and Snape surely didn't want him to continue to be Tristan Snape.

 _Unless Snape_ wants _Voldemort to kill me,_ he thought bitterly. With his reaction last night, he didn't actually know, anymore.

"Dad said Harry Potter was safe . . . when I asked," Harry said, realizing his mistake halfway through the sentence. What grounds did Tristan have for asking about Harry Potter? Well, probably curiosity. Lots of people assumed they had more right to him then they actually did.

"Well, obviously not," Ron said, glaring at Harry as if it were somehow his fault.

"Come on, everyone, let's go to breakfast. Maybe they'll make an announcement, if they hadn't already. Otherwise, we'll talk to Professor McGonagall," Ginny said, and the group walked past him. Hermione, though, stopped as she started to pass him.

"You're not coming?" Hermione asked.

"I was going to try to get some studying done before class," Tristan said as evenly as he could. "OWLs might be over, but I still have the rest of my exams to take." Hermione nodded, then looked at the rest of their friends, who was looking over at them.

"I'll think I'll stay, too. I really do think I could find out something important."

"Hermione," Ron said.

"No, Ron. You can go to breakfast, if you want. In fact, you all should. Find out what Professor McGonagall knows, and then let me know, but I _have_ to try and do something. He can't be dead!"

Harry inwardly agreed as the rest of the group left. He couldn't be dead. He _couldn't_ be stuck as Snape's hated son the rest of his life. He'd sooner let Voldemort kill him.

Harry nearly dropped his backpack when he realized what he had thought. _Maybe Snape was right_ , Harry thought with horror. _Maybe the reason I let Voldemort kill me is because no one wanted me anymore_.

Harry shook the thought out of his head, looking at Hermione. "Hermione, I . . ."

Harry _really_ wanted to tell Hermione the truth, if no one else. She would keep the secret if he asked her to, he _knew_ should would, and having someone to talk to would mean more than anything.

Hermione looked at him, grief in her eyes. He could relieve that grief, he knew.

"I . . ." Hermione was still looking at him, something flickering behind her eyes, and he knew.

Hermione wouldn't _tell_ his secret, yeah, but he knew she'd give it away by how she would act around him. She wasn't exactly the best actor. She wouldn't be able to hide her happiness at the news, and then everyone else would be suspicious.

 _Would it really be that bad if my friends knew? No one else had to know_ ,he thought, then realized he would be in the same dilemma. Everyone would get suspicious if his friends weren't grieving.

And Snape would know he told them.

 _I'll commit you to St. Mungos for insanity_ , Snape had threatened, and he didn't doubt it. Snape was probably hoping he'd try.

"Yes, Tristan?" Hermione ask, hope showing behind the pain in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, the double meaning clear only to him. "I know Harry was your close friend."

Hermione nodded and started crying again as she picked up the book she had thrown down on the table.

"Thank you, Tristan," she said, sitting. "Do you think you did alright on your Charms OWL?" she asked, obviously trying to change the subject. "I'm sorry I didn't help you study at all, like I said I would . . ."

"That's okay," Harry said quickly, his voice tighter than he would have liked. "Your old notes helped me catch up. I really hope I did okay on the exam, though . . ."


	18. Chapter 17 - The Mistake

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews again, everyone! Glad you're enjoying the story.**

 **I don't have much to say about his chapter in advanced, except that it was hard to write . . . read on!**

 **Chapter 17 – The Mistake**

Severus sat back in his desk chair, finding himself more and more irritated as each hour passed. He had not been able to contact Albus Dumbledore for months, now, and it was especially important to talk to him.

Severus guessed that Albus must know Potter was still alive, otherwise, he wouldn't have kept silent. Shacklebolt insisted the old man was alive and that he had passed on Severus' message, but still . . . _nothing_.

Looking at the letter in his hands, Severus wanted to rip it up. Black had been asking to see Potter since his death had been announced, but Severus told him to wait. He was surprised, and slightly pleased, that Potter kept his head enough to not contact the mutt through the mail.

Now, with the students leaving that night, it was time he finally got rid of Potter. Black could deal with what to do with him, now, if Albus wasn't going to respond.

The brat at least had the intelligence to stay away from him. It had been, he supposed, inevitable that Potter would revert to his ways before he became Tristan Snape. Snape should have known from the start that there was no way he would have been able to put up with him for long.

From now on, he would make sure the boy continued to live. Nothing more, no matter what Albus tried to convince him. Unfortunately, until he met with Albus to convince him of his final decision, Potter had to be kept under the disguise.

It surprised him that, two weeks later, Albus had made no dispute of the falsehood that Potter was killed. Perhaps because the Ministry had finally acknowledged the Dark Lord's return.

Severus checked the time. He would take Potter to headquarters himself in a couple of hours, after he finished up a few things for the night, then he would contact Shacklebolt again.

He didn't feel pressed to contact Albus until a couple days ago. The Dark Lord had called him, again, to talk about Tristan, and Severus wasn't sure what to think about the situation. It had turned out that Potter _did_ simply have tea with the Dark Lord, and he had been rather surprised that the Dark Lord was under the impression that the boy had been teaching himself Dark Arts.

Potter, learning the Dark Arts. It made it want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

The Dark Lord even went as far as to say he found it amusing how Tristan didn't seem to have the stomach for the Dark Arts, despite his interest. Severus felt compelled to mention that Tristan was only thirteen, which seemed to amuse him even more and nothing he said could deter the Slytherin from his interest in Tristan.

It didn't matter, he supposed. He was beginning to grow used to the insanity the Dark Lord seemed to possess in this reincarnation, and Potter was still an insufferable brat. He would inform Black of Potter's possible foray into the Dark Arts and let him deal with that, too.

What troubled Severus was that the Dark Lord was requiring Tristan's presence next time he was called. As Severus did not know when that would be, and with no word from Albus, Severus wasn't sure what was to be done. Last time the Dark Lord's interest in Tristan was brought up, Albus had seemed to think it might be a good thing.

So, if the Dark Lord called before he contacted Albus . . . what? He could not arrive without Tristan; the Dark Lord would take no excuses, so if he hadn't heard from Albus in time, he had to choose between giving up his position as a spy or risking Potter's safety.

He would choose bringing Potter, he decided. If the Dark Lord was interested in recruiting Tristan, he seemed to be doing so with charm instead of pain, and Severus decided Potter was at very little risk. If he managed to converse with the Dark Lord for three hours without revealing secrets, Severus was willing to risk it again. Albus did not seem keen on losing his spy quite yet. The problem would be dealing with Black, but he doubted he'd have to come up with a solution.

Albus _better_ contact him soon, he decided.

It was only an hour later when the call came. Snapping his quill at his misfortune, Severus stood, going directly to the Slytherin common room where Potter was waiting. His anger flared, but he hid it as Potter stood, reaching for his trunk.

"Leave it," Snape snapped. "We have an unfortunate meeting with your _favorite_ Dark Lord." Severus smirked at the sight of Potter's face paling. At least the boy was smart enough to be afraid. "I do hope you're excited."

Severus knew he shouldn't goad the boy any longer on the subject, but Potter's flippant attitude about his one-on-one meeting with the Dark Lord still angered him. The boy was absolutely, impossibly thoughtless. Potter's face showed his emotions move from fear to anger, but at least the boy had the sense to stay silent.

Not waiting for a response, Severus pulled Potter by the arm to outside the school grounds and apparated.

They were in the woods again.

"Don't talk unless you are spoken to," Severus snapped, letting go of the boy's arm and walking toward the fire he saw ahead, continuing to check to make sure Potter was following. The boy kept his distance, but managed to keep up.

Close to the fire, Severus saw not many people had been called. A handful, the most loyal, were here tonight. Perhaps they would learn of the plan involving Potter, and Severus was glad he made the decision he did. Spotting Lucius and Narcissa, Severus walked to them, a pit in his stomach forming when he saw who was with them.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Who was supposed to be in Azkaban. Severus had heard brief news that there were escapees loose from the prison, but at the time, he hadn't given much thought to who it must have been.

"Severus," Lucius greeted, followed by Narcissa. Bellatrix turned to glare at him.

"Lucius, Narcissa. Bellatrix," he sneered the last name. "So glad you were able to make it. Managed to take your leave of the dementors?"

Bellatrix sneered right back at him, pulling her wand. Severus didn't pull his out, but had his hand, ready. He doubted the witch's reflexes were as good as his after her extended stay under the power of the dementors.

Before Bellatrix opened her mouth to answer, there was a noise from inside the woods – Potter must have lagged even further behind – and the insane woman redirected her wand, aiming a deadly curse into the woods.

" _Penale mortem,_ " she yelled. Severus didn't recognize the curse, but did recognize the simple translation from latin. An old curse, perhaps . . .

Severus' heart failed when he heard a yell and he was in the woods before he realized he had been running. Vaguely, he noticed Lucius and Narcissa at his side as he knelt by Tristan, the boy paling by the second. It hadn't killed instantly, the boy was still breathing, but Severus found himself unable to conjure up a counter curse.

He didn't recognize the curse. He had failed Potter, failed Albus.

Failed Lily.

"Severus, _move_ ," Lucius said, pushing him out of the way, and took his place. He watched unmoving as Lucius cast a series of counter-curses that would slow – maybe nearly stop – a curse.

"What are you doing, Lucius?" Narcissa asked. "That won't stop it."

"There _is_ no stopping that curse," Lucius said after a few very long minutes. "I've slowed it as much as I could." Severus could feel Lucius and Narcissa looking at him. "Just because there isn't a known way to counter the curse, doesn't mean we won't find one," he continued telling Severus. It sounded like a promise, and Severus shook his head.

He had to get Potter out of there.

"He's not moving," Severus said flatly, kneeling once again at the boy's side. His breath was so soft it barely looked like he was breathing.

"He's alive. Unconscious," Lucius answered. "I thought it best to keep him that way until we get him to our home. I have a few potions there that could heal the damage done to him so far. At least, _some_ of the damage."

Lucius must have noticed that Severus wasn't planning on moving, because Tristan was soon being hovered and moved out of the woods near the fire. The Dark Lord had arrived and everyone had gathered around him. He looked at the group coming out of the woods with disdain.

"Why are you sso _late_ ," the Dark Lord drawled. Severus let Lucius answer, seeing Bellatrix close to the Dark Lord. She looked unconcerned for the outcome of her wild cursing. He moved for his wand, but Narcissa stopped him.

"We'll deal with her later," Narcissa said bitterly. It seemed she wasn't to keen on her sister at the moment, which pleased Severus, although he realized she wouldn't take kindly to him once he killed her.

"One of Bellatrix's stray curses hit young Tristan, my Lord," Lucius said, bowing and waving toward the boy. "I managed to slow the curse, but he is dying. I must take him to my manor in order to finish the healing . . ."

"Leave him," the Dark Lord spat. "If he was foolish enough to get in the way of a curse, I have no use for him." As the group started to follow the Dark Lord down the path, Lucius lowered Tristan's body to the ground, looking at Severus.

"He'll be fine for the meeting," Lucius said. "He will stay unconscious." Severus started to shake his head, but started to come to his senses. Potter wasn't going to die immediately, they had time to solve the counter-curse. Now, he needed to think about getting himself out of this meeting alive so he could get Potter to Malfoy Manor.

As an extra precaution, Severus cast several wards and shields around the boy, feeling empty as he did so, and walked with Lucius and Narcissa to where the the Dark Lord was waiting.

The Dark Lord did not mention Potter once, and no one in the group had dared to ask. The meeting was, instead, on the Ministry's acknowledgment of his return.

A necessary evil, he had said.

The meeting ended and Severus rushed back to the fire, Potter lying where he left him. The Malfoys were right behind him as Severus removed the wards and as they were about to apparate to Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix came up behind them. Lucius noticed her first.

"You are not welcome at the manor, tonight," Lucius said, and Bellatrix glared at her.

"You're blaming me for the brat sneaking out in the woods when we were about to have a meeting with our _Lord_?" she asked, looking to Narcissa, who wouldn't meet her eyes.

"He wasn't _sneaking_ ," Severus spat, doing what he could to stay calm. "He was following me, probably got behind because he was nervous. It was his _first meeting_ , after all."

"It still doesn't stand why I can't go back to the manor. I'm not going to curse him again." She sounded almost childish. A bitter child.

"Draco's going to be home in the morning, Bella," Narcissa said softly. "If you're still this jumpy, it's not safe for you to be around the children. Even at Draco's age, he tends to run around the house. Just . . . stay here for now. We'll discuss it later, alright?"

Bellatrix crossed her arms, glaring at her sister, but made no further argument. Even in her jittery insanity, she seemed to see the reason in this.

Severus couldn't help but think how much more sane Black had been after similar number of years in Azkaban. The dog form must have helped more than anyone assumed.

"I didn't mean to curse him," she said, looking slightly guilty for the first time that night.

"Then perhaps you should be careful what curses you spew at imaginary, unknown dangers," Severus spat, choosing to disapparate at that moment.

Lucius arrived shortly after. "Narcissa is going to talk to Bellatrix before she comes home," he said, looking at Tristan. Severus was still carrying him by hand. "I am terribly sorry, Severus. She's been especially jumpy since she's been out. I'm not sure she could be considered sane any longer, but this is the first time she's done anything like this. If I'd have known . . ."

"You said you had potions," Severus interrupted, not wanting to hear the excuses they were laying out for the witch.

"Yes, come in," Lucius said, leading him into the house, up the first set of stairs and down the hall. He opened the second door on the left. A bedroom. "I will get them. He should be comfortable here."

Severus put Potter on the bed. Into the bed. He pulled the covers over him, unsure how close to death the boy actually was. There was no more color in his face than earlier, suggesting blood loss, but there had been none. His pulse was light, breathing barely there.

Cold.

Severus sat on the bed next to the boy, his hand still clutching the boy's cold one. No one could be that cold and still be alive. When Potter woke up, how much will he still be Potter? How much would he remember?

Lucius was back in very little time and managed to get several potions down the boy's throat before casting a few more spells on Tristan.

He started coughing, and Severus sat him up. Potter didn't seemed to be able to sit up himself, so he maneuvered himself behind the boy, letting him lean on him.

Severus let Lucius work, but it was another fifteen minutes before Potter began to fidget. "A few more potions . . ." Lucius said softly, leaving again.

"Dad?" Tristan asked quietly. Severus was so intent on following the boy's heartbeat he almost didn't hear him.

"I'm here, Tristan. How are you feeling?"

"I hurt," he whispered. "What happened?"

"A stray curse," Severus said flatly. "We are containing it. Relax."

"Containing it?" the boy asked, sounding confused, and Severus cursed his luck that Potter might have picked up the meaning.

"Just relax."

"Where are we?"

"At the Malfoys. Lucius recognized the curse."

The boy coughed. "It hurts to breathe," he said. "Like there's fire in my lungs."

"They might be raw. We're fixing what we can."

Severus cursed himself again. How was it that he could work any other time under stress except now? Anxiety, no matter how due it was, would not help Potter's condition.

"What you can?" Potter asked, trying to turn around to look at him.

"Don't move, Tristan. You need to relax."

The boy continued to struggle, but he was weak enough that he couldn't manage turning around, despite Severus not resisting. The struggle ended in a coughing fit. Not sure what else to do, Severus let the boy finish coughing before wrapping his arms around Tristan, preventing him from moving.

"Stay relaxed," he said again. "Please."

"Am I . . ." Potter began, but Lucius, thankfully, came back at that moment.

"You're conscious," Lucius said with relief. "Take this," he continued, holding out a potion. "It will heal your lungs."

Severus moved his arms to allow the boy to move, but Potter could only lift his arm a few inches, so Severus took it instead, holding it to his mouth. Slowly, Potter drank it, thankfully not coughing during the dosing.

"Better?" Lucius asked. After a minute, Potter nodded, although it seemed it was reluctant.

"How much better?" Severus asked, and the boy shrugged. A few potions later, and Lucius announced that it was all he could do for the moment.

"I think the potions might take longer than usual to work. The curse might be working against them, but as its contained, they will prevail," he told Severus, then turned to Tristan. "You should sleep while they finish working. Severus, a quick word."

Severus maneuvered out from behind Potter, who was now strong enough to lower himself back into bed. Out in the hall, Lucius shook his head. "We shouldn't leave him alone long. The curse is contained, and the potions will heal him, but the curse will continue to fight. We will," Lucius continued forcefully when Severus went to talk, "be able to keep him alive with the healing potions until we find a way to counter it. I'll get you the list." Lucius paused. "I believe we will need to keep an eye out for organ deterioration. He may stop breathing. You know the spell to counter that?"

"Yes," Severus said flatly. "I'll put a monitoring charm on him."

"Good idea." Another pause. "I am sorry, Severus."

"I would like a list of the potions as soon as possible." Lucius nodded.

"I'll work on that immediately."

Lucius left, and Severus went back into the room, making sure Potter was still breathing and casting a few surveillance charms on him. The boy was back to sleeping, and Severus stood next to the bed, staring at him.

 _What have I done?_ he asked himself. _Why had I not kept him near me?_

Severus was sure his thoughts would have turned darker if it wasn't for Narcissa coming into the room a few minutes later.

"Severus, I need to speak with you," she said quietly. There was fear in her voice, and Severus nodded. She conjured a couple of chairs, and Severus sat close enough to the bed to still reach Potter if needed. Narcissa stayed standing for a second. "I . . . hope I'm not making a mistake, but . . . we're friends, are we not? If I'm wrong . . ."

"We are friends," Severus said, motioning to the chair. Narcissa sat but shook her head.

"If I'm wrong about . . ." she shook her head again, taking a death breathe. "I don't have a choice. We don't have a choice. With interest lost in Tristan, the Dark Lord will set his sights back on Draco . . ."

Severus nodded. "I believe he would," he said flatly, wondering where this was going.

"You're in a unique position, and . . . I know I may be making an awful mistake. You've been loyal to the Dark Lord, I know . . . I'm not disputing that, but I can't . . ." Severus forced himself to not hold his breathe and let her continue, lest she back down. "We don't have a choice. He's our son. If you . . . You could . . . _easily_ . . ." Narcissa was having trouble asking, and although Severus had an idea of what she may be asking, he couldn't be sure. He couldn't give anything away in case he was wrong.

"You may speak freely, Narcissa. Anything you say to me will stay between us, as friends." She took a deep breath, eyes shifting toward the door as if she expected the Dark Lord to enter and kill her.

"Lucius and I would like speak with Albus Dumbledore," she said quietly. "We wish to ask him for his protection against the Dark Lord. We are willing to give him all the information we have for that protection."

"Do you know what you are asking, Narcissa?" Severus asked slowly. "You ask me to betray our Lord . . . he will know it was me who gave you access to the Headmaster."

"Do you truly wish to stay in the service of the Dark Lord, Severus?" Narcissa asked. "He told you to let your son die . . . if Lucius hadn't already halted it, he never would have made it home."

Severus didn't answer at first. If this was a trick, he was done and could only hope to escape the house with Tristan.

"If Lucius hadn't halted the curse, I would have left then and there," Severus said, and he knew the relief he saw in her eyes was real. "I will speak with Albus, when I find him . . ."

Severus looked toward Tristan. The boy was alive, breathing, hopefully in less pain, but he still looked nearly dead. He needed to find Albus immediately.

"Could you stay with him? The sooner I find the Headmaster . . ."

"Yes, Severus, I will. Please . . ." Severus could tell she was asking him both to speak with Albus and to _not_ speak with the Dark Lord. He held his face steady.

"I will not go back to the Dark Lord, Narcissa. You have my word." Severus knew he couldn't after this, although he wasn't sure if he was making the smart decision. They would lose information that they needed, lose one of the edges they had in this war, but he also couldn't deny the Malfoys respite. Two of the most loyal servants of the Dark Lord turning on him. Preventing a third from making the mistake they all did years ago.

And they might have information he didn't.

"And you have ours, Severus. Thank you."


	19. Chapter 18 - Repercussions of Negligence

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews! Here's the next chapter!**

 **So, say I write a oneshot or two to go along with this story as sort of a behind-the-scenes-of-the-main-story type of deal . . . what would you guys like to see? Something between Harry and Snape? Something between Harry and one of the other characters? An outside view? I have a few ideas, but don't have time to write them all, so . . . yeah. Let me know?**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 18 – Repercussions of Negligence**

Severus sat across from Albus in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts; no matter it was 3 in the morning. No matter he was so exhausted he felt sick. He was angry, remorseful. He wasn't sure if he hated himself or Albus more in that moment. At least the old man wasn't expecting good news.

Albus was simply waiting for Severus to talk, so he scowled at the man.

"Why had the Dark Lord faked Potter's death?" Severus asked, and Albus shook his head.

"You haven't heard anything?"

"No. He has failed to mention it the couple of times I've been called." Severus paused and cleared his throat. He'd start with the Malfoys, perhaps. "There has been a few . . . developments," he continued, his voice refusing to work properly.

Albus noticed. The old man straightened in his seat, more alert than he had been seconds before. Severus braced himself.

"First, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy wish . . ." Severus quickly tried to think of the best way to put this. He doubt they wish to deflect to the side of the Light as much as they wished for protection from the Dark Lord. It was highly unlikely their views had changed in such a short time. "They are asking for your protection in exchange for any information they have."

Albus looked surprised. Severus should have expected. He hadn't been able to inform the headmaster of Lucius' odd behavior the past couple of months. It wasn't as sudden as it seemed.

"And what brought this on, if I may ask?"

Severus couldn't answer immediately.

He hoped to whatever powers there were that Potter was still alive.

"I have told you previously that the Dark Lord had taken an interest in Tristan?" His voice was a question, but they both knew the statement for what it was. The headmaster's expression changed from surprised, curious, to worried.

Anxious.

It wasn't a good feeling.

"What happened?" Anger. Fear. Albus' voice was oddly flat.

"The day Potter's death was faked, the Dark Lord also sent a vision to Potter that Black had been captured. A trap to draw him out. Potter did not fall for the ruse, but had been anxious and had been wandering the grounds." Severus knew he was drawing the explanation out, but he found he couldn't bring himself to the point. "Lucius had been ordered to bring Tristan to him for a one on one meeting and found him wandering. The meeting went as well as can be expected," Severus added quickly at Albus' worried look.

He couldn't put this off any longer.

"A few days ago, the Dark Lord had called me to discuss Tristan, with an order at the end to bring him the next time I was called. I had, of course, tried to contact you immediately." He glared at the man, glad that the Headmaster seemed ashamed at his complete absence. "But last night, I was called, and I had to make the decision myself."

Severus couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice no matter how hard he tried.

"The Dark Lord gave no indication he wish to put Tristan through any harm, so I took him with me. I had not expected Bellatrix to be there. Her insanity is obvious. Potter was following me from the woods, the noise startled her and she shot a curse at the noise."

"Where is he, Severus?" Albus asked.

Panic. Severus could handle anger. Not panic.

"With the Malfoys. Alive." He paused. "They still believe he is Tristan. He is in no danger with them."

Albus sagged in his chair with relief. "Why there? And why does this precipitate their wish to leave Voldemort's service?"

Severus paused, deciding which question to answer first.

"With Tristan no longer in the Dark Lord's favor, his attention will turn back to Draco. While we do not know why the Dark Lord is interested in using a child, they have no wish to find out."

"You believe this is an honest deflection?"

Severus breathed in.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Draco has always been their priority. With Tristan . . ." Severus shook his head. "Albus, Potter is not well." Albus looked grave. "The curse that witch threw at him has no known reversal. It is meant to cause death within minutes. If it hadn't been for Lucius . . ."

"Severus-"

"He will live. We can keep him alive, but he will need to be watched. Lucius is drawing up a list of potions to keep on hand – he knew the effects of the curse – and I placed a charm on him to indicate if he stops breathing. Lucius sounded confident we can development a counter curse."

Albus didn't look as angry as Severus suspected, but he couldn't help but remind himself the details he had left out. Details Potter would surely supply once they spoke.

"I wish to see the memory, Severus. From when you were called, to when you determined Harry's condition."

"Albus-"

"Severus, there may be something you missed. I understand your knowledge of the Dark Arts overshadows mine, but I still have some knowledge on the subject. There may be something to the curse I recognize."

"Surely you just want to see the meeting?"

"No," Albus said darkly. "I wish to see from the moment you were called."

Severus felt his heart miss a few beats as the headmaster stood and walked to his pensieve. He wondered if Albus suspected the negligence he had toward Potter . . .

"Albus," Severus said, standing. He pulled the memory from his mind and nearly threw it in the pensieve. "The relationship between Potter and I has not been smooth the last couple of months." Best Albus learned from him instead of from the memory. "I warn you that I have not treated him kindly."

The old man didn't answer immediately. He looked exhausted, unhappy. Angry? Severus couldn't tell.

"I had hoped that after all this time, you two could have set aside your differences."

"He invaded my privacy. I couldn't forgive that."

"He is a child, as I believe you have pointed out to me on many occasions." Albus glanced into the pensieve hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to see what was in there. "It isn't a matter of forgiveness, but a matter of teaching him better. If we abandoned every child the moment they do something unforgivable, I dare say very few families would have children left."

"He is _not_ my child."

"He is now, Severus. Come, you are viewing the memory with me, in the case I have a question."

"I'd rather not," Severus answered shortly, unsure of how to respond to Albus' flippant statement about Potter now being his son.

"Come," he responded shortly, and Severus obeyed.

He stood back as Albus watched Severus taunting Potter about enjoying his meeting with the Dark Lord. He refused to follow as they watched him rush off toward the fire in the woods, leaving a terrified boy to force himself to follow in his wake.

He looked away as Potter screamed and Lucius saved him from immediate death, and by the time they were at the Malfoys, Severus could barely keep himself standing.

He didn't need the reminder. He didn't need to remember how terribly he had failed.

It was an eternity before they were back in the headmaster's office. Severus closed his eyes when his glance at the headmaster showed how angry and sick the man looked.

"Severus, I think you should sit," the man said dangerously. Severus flinched and sat, glad for the release. "I assume this has been similar to your treatment of Harry for the last couple of months?"

Severus nodded slowly. "I had told him to stay away from me. I was going to leave him in Black's care last night . . ."

"But then Voldemort called."

"Yes. Albus, we can't continue this charade," Severus said. "I cannot continue this."

"On the contrary, Severus," Albus said bitterly, "we have no choice _but_ to continue it. The world believes Harry is dead, and I wish to keep it that way for the moment. I believe Voldemort wishes us to dispute it, bring Harry out to show he isn't dead, and that we cannot do. In addition, you will now devote your time to Harry's care. I will admit," Albus said, his voice softening a bit, "that the blame is not solely on you, but had you kept him near you, he might not be dying at this moment, and he will need constant support. You owe him that."

"Black would be better suited to supporting him. Despite his arrogance, he would be able to keep Potter alive just as well as I would."

"You don't have a choice in this, Severus," Albus told him. "He cannot go back to being Harry Potter at the moment, and it would seem very odd for Tristan Snape to suddenly be in the custody of Sirius Black, considering your relationship. You'll also need him nearby to develop a counter-curse, and Lucius Malfoy will need access to Tristan to help."

Severus couldn't answer. He couldn't argue.

He couldn't, but he didn't want any of it. He couldn't be responsible for Potter any longer.

Albus sighed. "I know this is difficult, Severus. I am sorry I have not been here to guide and support you both; you both have been alone in this, but I will not change my mind. I will, though, lay down ground rules that I expect you to follow without question."

"Albus-"

"No!" Albus said, losing his temper for the first time that night. "No, Severus, you will not argue! This is no longer about your feelings on the matter. This is now about Harry, and what we must do for him for failing to protect him. You _will_ be with him at all times. If there is a time where you are unable to be with him, he is to be in the care of an adult who can use good judgment in order to issue potions he might need or to restart his breathing or fix anything else that develops. And by _all times_ , I mean, all times. I will have a second bed moved into your bedroom. You will share all meals. You will be within hearing distance when he goes to the bathroom. Do you understand, Severus?"

"Yes, sir," Severus said quietly.

"And you _will_ be kind to him. No _matter_ his mood, no _matter_ his attitude, you _will_ be kind. I do not mean," Albus continued before Severus could interrupt, "that you do not discipline him if necessary, but I will _not_ have you be cruel under _any_ circumstances. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"If I have any more requests on the matter, I will explain them to you," Albus told him flatly, "but I believe we should continue to the topic of the Malfoys."

Severus took in a deep breath.

"I will speak with them. I'm assuming if they are looking for protection, they will not be able to stay at their manor, in which case, I believe it would be in everyone's best interest," Albus said, and Severus assumed he mostly meant Potter's best interest, "if they were to stay at Hogwarts with you and Tristan this summer. With restrictions, of course. And assuming we can come to an agreement."

 _An agreement_ , Severus thought, thinking more that Albus was hesitant to trust the Malfoys at their word.

As he should be. Hogwarts wouldn't be the best place to keep them, but as it seemed it was where he and Potter would be staying, it would be the most convenient.

"Tell them I will speak with them at one this afternoon," Albus continued. "I do wish to get some sleep tonight, it has been an exhausting week. And please be kind enough to escort them to my office."

"As you wish," Severus said, taking the dismissal and leaving Albus to contemplate his failure further.

* * *

Harry lay in the bed, his eyes closed. He knew Mrs. Malfoy was the one sitting next to his bed, now, and he wasn't sure if he wanted her to know he was awake.

His lungs didn't hurt as much as they did last time he woke, at least. He wondered where Snape was, though. Did he leave him for good, then? Left him with the Malfoys instead of Sirius like he promised?

He wouldn't put it past Snape.

It was too much to focus on keeping his eyes closed. In the darkness, all he had was the pain in his chest and . . . well, everywhere else. The pain in his chest was the worst, though.

"Tristan?" Mrs. Malfoy asked as Harry slowly opened his eyes. Unexpectedly, he took a breath that burned his lungs, causing a coughing fit that Harry was sure would kill him. When it slowed, he realized that he was leaning up against someone; it took a few more minutes to realize that Mrs. Malfoy had moved to the bed and had pulled him into his lap, Startled, he tried to get away. "It's okay, Tristan, you're safe here," she said, but allowed him to move, standing at sitting back down in the chair next to the bed.

"Where's my dad?" he managed to get out.

"He went to find Headmaster Dumbledore. He should be back soon." She glanced at the clock – which said just after four, and Harry wondered if it was four in the afternoon or in the morning. The curtains over the windows were heavy, but Harry couldn't see any light around the edges, either.

Before Harry could work up the courage to ask any more questions, Snape appeared in the doorway, looking as if he had been dragged around the castle by a dragon. Well, sort of. He didn't have any injuries, as far as Harry could tell, but . . .

"Severus, you're back," Mrs. Malfoy said, standing. "Tristan just woke up."

Snape glanced at him before walking to the chair Mrs. Malfoy had relinquished and reached out for his hand. Harry did his best to not look uncomfortable with the action.

"The Headmaster is back at Hogwarts," Snape said slowly. "He has been reinstated as Headmaster, and Umbridge has been removed from the staff. He wishes to speak with you and Lucius at one this afternoon. I will, of course, escort you." Harry noticed that Snape wasn't looking at Mrs. Malfoy as he talked. Or at Harry. He was staring blankly at a spot on the duvet. "I suggest you get some sleep. You will most likely need it." Snape finally looked up. "You are positive this is what you want?"

"It is necessary," Mrs. Malfoy said quietly. "Thank you." It dawned on Harry what they were talking about as she moved to leave.

Were the Malfoys changing sides? They were going to talk to Dumbledore? Or maybe they were just going to talk to him about how he got hurt. Harry wasn't even really sure himself how it happened.

"You should get some sleep yourself," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Lucius is bringing a few more potions up, along with a list. Would you like a room prepared?"

"I will sleep here," Snape said, his eyes back on the duvet. "Thank you."

"Of course, Severus." She left.

Harry had questions, of course, but now that he was alone with Snape, he realized he didn't want to be. He wasn't sure if Snape was going to yell at him for getting hurt, or whether or not he blamed Snape or what. His professor didn't seem angry at him, but then he always talked about not wearing his emotions on his sleeve . . . Snape could have just been reigning in his anger for the Malfoys' sake. Harry stared down at his hands.

"How do you feel?" Snape asked him, and Harry shrugged. That didn't hurt too much. Sort of like he was sore. "I need to be able to assess if I need to take any further action before I go to sleep, Tristan. Please answer." Snape's voice was flat.

"I hurt everywhere," Harry answered, surprised at the anger in his own voice. He tried to tone it down. "Not as much as before, though." Snape nodded, but still wasn't looking at him. Snape stood, though, and moved to the other side of the bed, pulling aside the covers. Harry was glad the bed was large, if Snape was planning on using the same bed.

"Do not hesitate to wake me if you need anything," Snape said as he slid in under the covers. Harry hadn't even seen the man take off his shoes. Harry didn't answer. " _Anything_ , Tristan, understand? If you start to feel worse, if you have trouble breathing . . . _wake me up_. I have cast a few charms to notify me if you start to get worse, but there are things I may not have accounted for. Has Lucius or Narcissa given you water or food?" Harry shook his head, wondering when Snape would let him go back to sleep. "Call for Ninna if you are hungry or thirsty. The house elf will get you what you need."

Harry looked up just as Snape was closing his eyes. The man must have fallen asleep almost immediately, because his breathing changed and his face lost the blank look it was holding.

Harry still wasn't completely sure what had happened. He remembered following Snape through the woods, getting behind, and then nothing but pain. Stealing another glance at Snape, Harry burrowed back into bed and closed his eyes, not sure if he was angry or sad or whether he should be scared, but at the moment, all he could dredge up the energy to feel was tired.


	20. Chapter 19 - Back at Hogwarts

**A/N: Hello again! Thanks for the reviews, I'm loving reading them. Anyway, next chapter! I'm really not making these chapters easy to write . . . it's exhausting. Hehe. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 19 – Back at Hogwarts**

 _Lucius Malfoy had him by the arm, dragging him down a long corridor toward The Door, where Sirius was waiting. When they got to the door, Sirius grabbed his other arm, and they both dragged him through the door, down rows and rows of hovering glass balls. Finally, Sirius let go, but Malfoy continued to drag him._

" _Sorry, Potter, this is where I leave you," Sirius says. "You'll like death. It's so much pain!" Harry was confused why Sirius was staying there. Confused why he sounded excited._

 _Harry and Malfoy walked into a sitting room, a clock ticking loudly in the corner. So loud he had to cover his ears for a few moments. Then, everything stopped when Voldemort appeared. The clock no longer ticked, Malfoy froze._

 _Harry was sure his heart no longer beat._

" _You're late for tea," Voldemort drew out. "You were supposed to be here when you turned eleven."_

" _But I was at Hogwarts when I was eleven," Harry told Voldemort._

" _Doesn't matter. You belong here. Hogwarts is for the living," he said with a smile._

" _But I am alive," Harry pointed out._

" _You haven't been alive for years. Look at yourself."_

 _Harry looked into the mirror in front of him, finding himself unable to stay standing. He was almost a skeleton, his flesh hanging off in places. Now as he lay on his side, he heard Voldemort chuckle._

" _Get out," Voldemort said. "I should have know not to waste time on something dead like yourself. Snape gets to stay here. He knows how much you enjoy my company. I won't get lonely."_

 _Snape chuckled along with Voldemort, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the door. Harry tried to speak, to tell him he didn't want to leave because he had no where else to go, but he couldn't manage the words and Snape threw him out the door._

"Tristan!" Harry heard, finally coming through. He opened his eyes slowly to see Malfoy standing next to him, and it took a few moments to remember he was suppose to be there. "Are you okay?"

Harry shook his head to the question automatically, then cursed himself for his honesty.

"Were you having a nightmare?" Lucius asked, sitting on the bed next to Harry's stomach and Harry resisted the urge to move away. Especially since Snape was in the bed next to him.

"Yeah," Harry answered, trying to not think of it. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah," he answered again. He felt a little sore, but it was a lot easier to breathe. "Yeah, I do."

Malfoy seemed to sigh with relief. "Good."

* * *

Severus woke and took a couple of seconds to get his bearings before turning to Potter to check on him.

Potter wasn't there.

Sitting up abruptly, Severus got out of bed, and rushed out of the room, finding Lucius just down the hall. He approached cautiously; it was the first time he had seen Lucius since he talked to Narcissa, and he was unsure what the Death Eater's reaction would be.

He had to find out what happened to Potter, though.

"Where's Tristan?" Severus asked as he approached.

"Just in the bathroom, Severus, don't worry," Lucius answered, and they stood in silence for a bit. Severus didn't want to bring up the topic of betraying the Dark Lord himself, and it seemed neither did Lucius. He appeared calm, but Severus wondered what was going through the man's mind. "I went to check on him; he was having a nightmare," he pointed out. "Has he been having them often?"

Severus shook his head, but didn't clarify as he realized his relief.

"Have you asked him what happened while he was alone with the Dark Lord?"

"I know they . . . had tea," Severus answered. "I did not push further than that."

"He should talk about it," Lucius said, shaking his head. "If he witnessed Potter's death-"

"If he witnessed Potter's death, he most likely had been ordered to tell no one, if the Dark Lord's own silence on the matter is any indication. I would rather not put him through the stress of ordering him _to_ tell me. I will ask when he is out of the Dark Lord's reach."

Lucius nodded, diverting his eyes. "Narcissa told me," he said quietly, quite unlike the Lucius he was used to. Quiet. Unsure. "Any advice on convincing Dumbledore? I thought we should-"

"Do not lie," Severus said forcefully, and Lucius looked startled. "Do not tell him you've realized that muggleborns are worth more than you thought, or what ever it was you were thinking. We all know that's bullshit, and he would never believe you. Tell the truth. If you are sincere in your wish for protection, you will be able to come to an agreement."

"An agreement . . ." Lucius said slowly.

"Yes, an agreement. He will expect something in return, I'm sure. Information you might be willing to give. I don't know what else, though. He will need to be sure of your sincerity."

Lucius looked to ponder this.

"What was your agreement with him?" Lucius asked quietly.

"That will not work with you," Severus said sharply. "If you honestly want protection, what I gave will not work for you."

Lucius stared at him, eyes narrow as he seemed to come to the realization. Severus realized it was too late to care; if it _was_ a trap set by the Dark Lord, he had damned himself already.

"It was that mudblood, wasn't it?"

"Do _not_ call her that," Severus said harshly, and Lucius gave a bitter laugh.

"All these years, Severus," he said shaking his head. "All these years. The things you've done to stay in the Dark Lord's graces, and it was for Dumbledore."

"No," Severus said flatly. "It wasn't." He didn't dispute betraying the Dark Lord. _Too late for that_ , he thought again. No turning back from this point. He wished he knew how much longer he had to last in that house before it turned one. How much longer he had to be on edge, thinking the Dark Lord might show up at any moment. Lucius just gave another dark laughed and shook his head again, observing Severus with suspicion.

"Perhaps it would be best if we . . . forget our . . . _indiscretions_ for the moment," he said slowly, still eyeing Severus. Before he could respond, there was movement a few doors down. Tristan came out of the bathroom, looking as if he were too tired to be standing. Severus rushed to his side, gripping his upper arm to keep him up, just in case. "I think breakfast," Lucius said. "It is nearly eleven, but I believe we could all use one last meal before leaving. Narcissa should be back with Draco soon; hopefully she'll let him know he needs to stay packed."

* * *

Harry followed the three adults to Dumbledore's office, wondering why Snape wouldn't let him go to his dorm, or at least his room in Snape's rooms. He could tell something was different between Snape and Mr. Malfoy. Harry wasn't sure what, exactly, but everyone was tense, and he kept expecting curses to start flying. He did feel a lot better, though, especially since Snape gave him a few more of the potions. They worked better the second time, for sure, but it felt like an excess amount of walking and he felt like he needed to sit.

 _Not that anyone would notice_ , Harry thought as he trailed behind them.

Dumbledore was waiting for them at the top of the winding stairs, looking not-too-pleased. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing him that way, before, and it made him nervous.

"If you would give me a moment to talk with Severus and Tristan," the Headmaster said instead of a greeting, and he followed Snape hesitantly; he was wondering, now, who Dumbledore was angry at, and it hoped it wasn't him.

 _He should be angry at Snape_ , Harry thought angrily, the reality of what happened finally hitting him.

Snape brought him to a _Death Eater_ meeting, and somehow he got _cursed_ – probably because Snape just ran off _without him_ – and he had been in _so much freaking pain_. So much that after _way_ too many potions, he was still a little sore and tired as hell.

In Dumbledore's office, Harry sat without being offered a seat. He refused to stand for any longer. Dumbledore sat down in his chair, but Snape stayed standing.

He refused to look at either of them.

"How are you faring, Tristan?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fine," Harry answered shortly, toeing the rug beneath his chair. The Headmaster sat silent for a moment.

"I promise, Tristan, we will be doing everything we can to make this right," Dumbledore said.

"Right," Harry said bitterly, thinking about how Dumbledore just left him with Snape, knowing very well that Snape hated him. How did he plan on making up for that? _Maybe I'll get to live with Sirius_ , Harry thought.

"In the meantime, I've noticed there's been a dog wandering the dungeons this morning. We'll have to escort him out soon, of course, but in the meantime, perhaps you would like to visit with him. I've been calling him snuffles."

Harry sat up straight, feeling better. Sirius was visiting? He finally looked at Dumbledore. "How long can he stay?" Harry asked.

"Oh, at least I few hours, I dare say, but not much longer. I'm sure his owners are looking for him. Too well behaved a dog for a stray." Snape scoffed, but didn't say anything. Probably because Dumbledore had glanced up at him over his spectacles, a dark look in his eyes. "I expect your father wouldn't mind," he said jovially.

"Okay," Harry answered, feeling a little bit cheered.

"Good, good," Dumbledore said. "Now, later, I would like to talk to you a bit more, but now, I do believe I have a meeting."

Harry nodded, not really wanting to stand up yet, but Dumbledore himself stood, and changed his attention to Snape.

"Poppy is out for a few hours, but should be back by five. She'll be expecting to see Tristan," Dumbledore said. "I did check with St. Mungo's, but they had no more answers than we do, at the moment, but I think it best if Poppy at least looks him over . . ."

"Of course," Snape said sharply, and Harry looked between them, wondering what they were talking about. Weren't the potions that Snape and Malfoy gave him working? Something burned at the edge of his memory, but it tired him to think too much on it, so he took Dumbledore's hand as the old man helped him to his feet, ushering both him and Snape out of the office.

The walk to the dungeons from the Headmaster's office was too long. Harry tried to stop a few times, but Snape just guided him through the corridors and down the many stairs, a hand on his shoulder.

Much to his relief, Sirius was sitting outside Snape's rooms when they arrived, and he ran up to greet Harry before growling at Snape. Snape just glared at the dog, letting both of them in. As soon as the door was closed, Sirius changed back, getting dangerously close to Snape. Harry had already sat, and couldn't find the energy to stand back up to get in between them. He watched closely, hoping Snape wouldn't kill his godfather; he was ready to yell, at least.

"If Harry didn't need you for him to stay alive, I'd kill you right here, Snape," Sirius said, and Harry, who had leaned sideways on the couch, sat up, using more energy he didn't have.

"What?" Harry asked, but the adults ignored him.

"Just visit with him, Black," Snape said resignedly, although anger still tinted his voice. Snape handed Sirius a box. "The potions are labeled. I'm sure Albus filled you in?"

"Of _course_ ," Sirius said.

"Tristan, you can take your dog with you into your bedroom," Snape said harshly before turning around and going to his own bedroom.

"Sirius," Harry said loudly, before he could start yelling after Snape. He didn't want his visit with his godfather to be marred by him and Snape fighting the whole time. Sirius turned to him and seemed to force a smile on his face.

"Where's your room, Harry?" Sirius asked, and Harry pointed at the closed door. He hadn't been in the in months, and he wondered if it was how he left it or if Snape had cleared everything out. "Come on, kiddo," he said, helping Harry up, much to him dismay. He really didn't want to be on his feet. Thankfully, the walk to the bedroom was quick, and Sirius helped him into his bed. He lay there with his eyes closed for a bit before he felt Sirius pick up his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he answered. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. "There was a lot of walking."

"I bet," Sirius said. "But don't worry, Dumbledore said Snape's going to come up with a counter curse. For once, I'm glad that bastard knows so much about the Dark Arts."

Harry forced his eyes open. There it was again.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry, Harry?" Sirius asked, and Harry shook his head.

"What do you mean counter curse? And Dumbledore said he checked with St. Mungos for answers . . ."

"No one has told you?" Sirius asked, sounding angry. Harry shook his head slowly, feeling his stomach clench. Told him what? "Harry . . . I don't . . . they should have . . . arg, those bastards! You should have been the first to know!" Harry tried to sit up, but now that he was down, he found he didn't have the strength. He felt his heart in his throat, in his hands, and . . .

"Told me what?" Harry managed to say. Sirius looked at him and calmed down a bit.

"I'm sorry, Harry. The curse that you were hit with . . . it was supposed to kill painfully, within minutes, but they were able to contain it. Mostly. But . . . Harry, I'm sorry, the curse is fighting its way out. You'll have to keep taking potions to keep from . . . you'll have to make sure you're with an adult at all times . . ."

Harry shook his head. Sirius wasn't exactly talking clearly, but . . .

Harry found he was having trouble breathing in, but he didn't think it was from the curse.

"Am I dying?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"They'll find a counter curse, Harry," Sirius told him. "There isn't one yet, but they'll make one. Snape's probably working on it, now . . ."

Sirius continued talking, but Harry really couldn't focus on what his godfather was saying. Now, he vaguely remembered Snape telling him something about fixing what they could, when he first woke up in a lot of pain but couldn't remember anyone actually telling him he was _dying_.

Even Sirius wasn't admitting it to him; he was just going on about how they'll fix it.

 _Dying_.

How long did he have, he wondered, if they weren't able to find a counter curse? Would he keep hurting more and more until he died of pain? What did the curse _do_ , exactly?

 _Dying_ . . .

" _Does it hurt?"_ he had asked, and Harry gathered he had an answer now.

Dying hurt. The thought sounded so ridiculous, he started laughing. He barely registered that Sirius stopped talking, but he couldn't stop.

He became Tristan Snape so he wouldn't be killed by Voldemort, only to find himself dying because of a Death Eater meeting.

Harry felt his laughter turn into sobs, and it almost felt as if he were were someone else watching himself cry. He was on his bed, crying horribly, telling himself he should stop, but with no way to control it. It seemed he had cried more in the past year than he had since he was a baby.

When he started calming down, he realized that he was in Sirius lap, and he maneuvered himself so he could hug his godfather around the waist.

 _I'm dying_ , Harry thought, and Sirius didn't deny it.

Sirius never said he wasn't. Not once did he say the words: _You're not dying_.

* * *

At a quarter to five, Snape woke Harry up, and Sirius bid him goodbye with the promise of seeing him sooner than last time.

Harry didn't get a chance to talk much to Sirius. He had been too tired, and now that he was more awake, he regretted spending the time sleeping. He wanted to tell Sirius how awful Snape has been, wanted to tell him how it felt to have everyone think he was dead, and so much more, and they hadn't gotten to any of that. Now, Harry was walking with Snape up to the Hospital Wing just to tell him that Madam Pomfrey couldn't do anything for him.

Harry kicked at the wall as he walked several times. Snape gave him a look, but didn't say anything. Harry figured he had the right to be in an awful mood, and he wasn't going to let anyone tell him otherwise.

In the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey's exam took a good hour, before she conjured up a couple of chairs for her and Snape to sit in. Harry was close to falling asleep again, but the change woke him up a bit.

"What potions do you have on hand?" she asked, and Snape handed her a list; she nodded. "I might rework it a bit, but this works for now. And you know some resuscitation spells?"

"Yes," Snape said flatly. Harry felt vaguely numb, as if it were someone else they were talking about.

"Good. Some of the potions can't be taken every day, but I suggest we administer them before the deterioration gets too far. Perhaps start with half of the potions each day, so every two days he takes them all . . ."

"What are the potions for?" Harry asked, and Madam Pomfrey looked at him. "Don't you worry, child. We'll keep you well until a counter curse gets worked out."

 _Keep you well_ , Harry repeated in his head. Did they mean keep him alive?

Harry just wish they'd explain what was happening to him.


	21. Chapter 20 - How to Be a Parent

**A/N: Hello! Thanks again for the reviews. Anyway, _progress_ is being made towards what you guys have been waiting for. Snape is still in the wrong mindset, but he should get there . . . eventually. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 20 – How to Be a Parent**

Poppy insisted that Tristan stay the night in the infirmary. She also insisted that Severus leave, to calm down and get some sleep, promising she had no intention of leaving the boy alone.

Severus was hesitant to leave. He looked at Potter; the boy was still awake, picking lint – or something – off his robes. Obviously angry, and Severus couldn't blame him. _Perhaps time away to regroup . . ._ Severus thought. Albus couldn't get upset if he took the time to refocus himself, especially if the boy was in the Hospital Wing. Making his decision, Severus took a few steps toward the bed with the intention of letting Potter know he would be back.

Potter looked up, glaring at him; Severus stopped and looked at Poppy, who looked up from her magazine. A look understanding and she waved him off.

He turned around and left without another word.

On his way back down the to dungeons, he wondered what, exactly, he was supposed to do now. He needed to research more on the curse, but it would be quicker to start with Lucius, who he hadn't heard from since he left the Malfoys in Albus' office. He needed to find something to keep the boy occupied for the summer, but a stop at a bookstore and game shop could satisfy that, at least temporarily; the shops in Hogsmede would be closed by now, but he could floo to Diagon Alley; several of the shops now stayed open late on Saturdays.

What the worst was, he knew, was that he needed to learn how to deal with Potter. _He's your son now,_ Albus' voice rang in his ears.

What the hell did that mean? A day ago, he had every intention of dumping Potter off on someone else, and now that would no longer be an option. He was stuck with a brat who felt himself above rules, above respect for others . . . how did he deal with that? Ground him perpetually? Detentions hadn't much much of a deterrent, so he doubted grounding him would be of any use. And, somehow, that felt wrong at this point anyway, especially since it was certain the boy would act out in response to . . .

In his response to his nearly being killed.

 _How can I be a parent?_ Severus asked himself. He was out of his depth, he wasn't going to lie to himself anymore. He needed help.

Albus was out. Although the old man would be infuriatingly pleased at Severus' _effort,_ he was sure the Headmaster never had children. The closest he had was the students. Lucius and Narcissa were an option. They cared for Draco more than anything – enough to go back on their pureblood-purist beliefs – but something burned on the edge of his mind when he thought about talking to Lucius more than he had to at the moment. It would be awhile before Lucius would trust him again, he was sure. Severus thought about who else he knew well that had children, but the only others that came to his mind were the Weasleys.

Reluctantly, Severus ticked off the reasons why talking the Molly and Arthur would be a good thing. By the time he made it to his rooms, he went straight for the fireplace before he changed his mind.

It was Bill Weasley who answered the floo. Severus was ready to tell the boy – man now, he knew – to ignore his call, but Arthur came up behind him.

"Severus, how can I help you?" he asked.

"I need to speak with you and Molly," he said simply. His voice was tighter than he would have preferred.

"Of course. Come on through," he answered, and the two men stepped out of the way.

"Professor," the younger Weasley greeted, and Severus nodded his reply as he followed Arthur out of room and into a sitting room.

"I'll go find Molly," Arthur said. "Would you like tea?"

"Yes," Severus answered. He doubted he'd get through the conversation without it. Arthur paused before leaving the room, watching him cautiously.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly.

 _Is everything alright?_ Severus asked himself. Potter was cursed, and Severus was stuck caring for him; Albus was angry with him – for good reason, he reminded himself; the Dark Lord would know very soon that he no longer had his spy, and that said spy had taken the Malfoys with him . . .

"No," he said shortly, in what he was sure he'd later consider a moment of weakness. "I'm not sure it can ever be alright." Arthur nodded.

"I will fetch Molly," he said quietly. A few minutes later, they were all there with tea, door firmly closed. The Weasleys seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but Severus, honestly, had no idea where to begin. Molly seemed to catch on.

"Was there anything in particular you needed to speak about, Severus?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, trying to think of the best way to ask them how to be a parent. Severus snorted into his tea, surprising even himself. _How to be a parent_ , he thought bitterly. _How to parent a child that is not mine, who has no respect for me, who never fails to find trouble._ The two Weasleys looked at him with worry. No, he was not acting like himself.

"Yes," he repeated. "About Tristan . . ." he said.

"Oh, dear, is he alright?" Molly asked, sitting up in her chair a bit. Severus found he couldn't answer immediately.

"No," he said quietly. "He's not, but that's not _directly_ what I wish to speak with you about." He tried to continue quickly, not wanting anymore interruptions before he managed to say it. "I find myself at a loss of what to . . . _do_ with him."

Molly laughed a bit.

"What to _do_ with him? Oh, dear. He's not some _thing_ , Severus," she said, and Severus couldn't help the glare in her direction. "Oh, don't mind me," she said, still laughing a bit. "I do understand what you're asking, though. Is there something in particular he's giving you troubles with?"

"He doesn't respect privacy much at all," Severus answered truthfully, but realized he was going to have to fabricate some things to avoid giving away this was Harry Potter he was dealing with. "He only respects my authority when it suits him." He paused. "I'm used to dealing with students, but giving him detentions seems to do no good."

"He might still be dealing with his mother's death," Arthur said. "He did get placed with you rather abruptly, did he not?"

"Yes," Severus said. The three sat quietly for a few moments.

"What does he enjoy doing?" Molly finally asked, and Severus looked at her questioningly. "Sometimes the best way to get a child to behave is to reward good behavior as well as reprimanding the bad." She got a look on her face as she seemed to think of something. "How much does he know about you? And you about him? I know you've been keeping him from the war, but . . . perhaps, this deep in the war, it is simply putting a barrier between you two . . ." She shook her head. "None of my business, of course, but something to keep in mind when you talk to him. Now, what does he enjoy doing?"

Severus paused.

"He likes reading," Severus said. "Novels."

They sat quiet for another few moments.

"Is that it?" Arthur asked, and Severus had to admit, other than flying – which he couldn't mention – Severus didn't know. Even at the beginning, he left the boy to his own devices.

Which, he saw now, was not the best way to go about things.

"I don't know what else," he admitted, feeling slightly ashamed, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why. "I know about his reading because he found a few of my old novels this summer."

"Maybe that's where you can start," Arthur said. "Get to know him. Then, your relationship with Tristan will be better, and you will have a better idea of what might work to punish his misbehavior without losing his respect."

Severus took a sip of his tea. He would be spending enough time with Potter to learn about him, he knew. He doubted Potter would be receptive to any inquiries on his part, though.

"I may have lost any ounce of respect he might have had for me," Severus told them honestly. "I . . . brought him into a situation I should not have. Do you remember Bellatrix Lestrange?" he asked.

"How could we forget?" Molly said darkly.

"She is out of Azkaban, although I hadn't known it before that moment. She was jumpy, let out a curse and it hit Tristan."

"No," Arthur and Molly said together, and Severus nodded.

"Lucius recognized the curse and was able to . . . control it, but we don't have a way to stop it."

"Where is he now?" Arthur asked.

"With Poppy. She has sent me away for the night. He's going to need constant supervision in case . . ." Severus stopped that line of thought. "I thought I would talk to you, and then stop in Diagon Alley to pick him up a few things. Books, at least, although I don't know what else."

"Games," Molly said. "There's plenty that can be played with one or two people. You might find something you can bond over, if you find a game you both enjoy." Severus nodded. "But it might be best to wander through the shops. You may know more about him than what's coming to mind. Although, if you're going to the stops tonight, you should go soon. It's nearly seven . . ."

"Yes, of course," Severus said standing.

"And let us know if there is _anything_ we could do to help. Bill's working at the Ministry, now, and I know he'd help, too. And if you need a rest, I'll keep an eye on him for you."

"Thank you, Molly," Severus said.

"Take care, Severus," Arthur. "Bill's held up tonight, was headed out when you called, but I'll send him to you tomorrow? Are you staying at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Severus said. "That would be appreciated." he paused. "Have him call me, first. A situation with . . . an old friend has developed, and I'm unsure where we stand at the moment. If he can't get a hold of me, Albus can point him in the right direction."

"Of course!" Molly said, she looked to be near in tears. "He's back, then? Oh, I'd thought he'd show sooner with . . . with _Harry_ , but we haven't been able to talk to him."

"Neither had I," Severus said. "I spoke with him for the first time last night," he continued, but Molly had stopped listening, crying, and Arthur was trying to calm her down.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Molly said after a few minutes. "I just . . . I just think of what Harry must have _gone_ though and . . ."

"Molly, you should sit," Arthur said, then turning to Severus after she left. "We'll see you, Severus. And we are sorry for this. Losing Harry's been hard on all of us; he was such a sweet child. Had horrible luck when it came to finding trouble, of course, but I blame that on the Dursleys. They never cared for him, and I dare say that their neglect led to his failure to care for himself . . ." he continued, trailing off, shaking his head. "I hope his death was quick, but knowing you-know-who . . ."

Severus shook his head once, feeling a need to quell Arthur's fear of a drawn-out death. "It is possible that the Dark Lord simply wished him dead," he said quietly. "He had drawn it out in the past, and Potter had escaped." Arthur gave a nod. "Goodbye," he said, taking floo powder off the mantel and flooing directly to Diagon Alley, having a hard time thinking of Harry Potter as 'sweet'.

* * *

Harry found himself awake at five in the morning in the too-quiet Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey looked to be already awake, as there was light coming from her office, but he didn't want to do anything that would catch her attention. He was in any mood to deal with any adults at the moment.

Turning over, Harry started when he saw Snape in a chair next to the bed, scowling at the Daily Prophet. He looked up at Harry's movement, his expression changing to a neutral one. Harry glared back.

"Good morning, Tristan," Snape said slowly, as if he wasn't sure he _should_ say it. Harry didn't bother answering back, afraid he would start a fight with Snape, and he really had enough of fighting. "If you are awake, we should go back to our rooms," he continued, but Harry didn't move. It felt wrong, with Snape ignoring him all that time, to have the man suddenly acting nice towards him.

It felt like a Howler, getting ready to explode, but Harry wasn't sure if that was himself or Snape.

"Are you alright, Tristan?" Snape asked, leaning in toward him. "Any worse, I should say?"

After a few moments, Harry shook his head. He still had that feeling of soreness, but he felt alright otherwise. He continued staring at Snape, though, and the professor watched him back.

"Am I staying with you, then?" Harry asked cautiously, trying to keep his voice even; it didn't work, and Snape glared at his aggravated tone. Snape didn't answer at first. _Probably trying to not yell at me_ , Harry thought.

"Yes, I think that best." Snape brought up his hand and brushed a finger on the bed cover slowly. Absent-mindedly. The movement was odd, coming from Snape. "You do not have to worry about a repeat of the last few months." Snape pulled his hand down, and looked back at Harry. Harry hadn't realized he had looked away. "I am sorry," he continued. Harry thought the man had stopped himself from saying more.

Harry, also, wasn't sure if Snape was really sorry, but the effort made Harry feel a little better. A _little_ less angry.

"Are you well enough to stand?" Snape asked, bringing Harry out of his musings.

"Yeah," he answered, putting the covers aside. At least in the dungeons he could escape to his room; he doubted Snape would mind that.

The walk to Snape's rooms was quicker than the walk to the infirmary, but it still took a lot out of him by the time they made it. Snape let him in, and Harry was headed to his room when the man put a hand on his shoulder. "There are a few things we need to discuss," Snape said, leading him, instead, to the couch. Harry sat hard, his anger building again. He couldn't even have time _alone_.

Snape sat down next to him instead of across from him, though, and Harry looked up questioningly.

"Am I dying?" Harry blurted without thinking. Looking away, he kicked his heals into the couch a few times, not expecting an response from Snape.

"That is a hard question to answer," Snape said after a minute. "Yes, in the sense that the curse that hit you is a fatal one. There is no counter-curse, but we have . . . _stalled_ it, for the moment . . . it could still affect you." Harry looked at Snape, confused. "Think of a cage, but it can still reach out between the bars, catching you if you get too close," Snape explained. "We will work at finding a counter-curse, but in the mean time, we need to take precautions.

"You may stop breathing; one of the aspects of the curse is that on top of organ deterioration, it tends to suffocate the cursed. In response to the deterioration, we are healing that with potions. You will have some you take every day, and I will have others on hand to help anything sudden."

"Is that why I feel sore?" Harry asked. He could tell Snape was annoyed at his interruption, but Harry didn't care. He wanted answers, and it seemed Snape was willing to give them to him. As angry as he had been at the wizard, he felt better than he had with the other adults, who kept trying to tell him it would be okay.

"Perhaps," Snape said after a moment. When no further response was added, Harry kicked the couch again. "All the doors in our rooms have been removed for the time being," Snape continued slowly, and it took Harry a second to process that.

" _All_ the doors?" Harry asked, eyeing the bathroom;

"All of the doors. And before you get angry, it is for your safety. What if you stopped breathing or your heart failed while in the bathroom, with the door closed and locked? The time it would take me to reach you could be too long to reverse it. In addition, a second bed has been added to my bedroom, where you will be sleeping. You may spend your time in your room while we are both awake if you wish for privacy, but I need to be able to reach you quickly. Understand?"

Harry stared at Snape. It wasn't that he didn't understand, but even last summer, Harry was able to spend time _away_ from Snape. That was probably why they managed to get along as well as they did. Having to be with Snape _all the time_?

He wasn't sure either of them were going to make it out alive.

Snape continued after waiting a moment with no response. "If you have any questions, ask. I would rather know what is on your mind." Another pause. "While you were in the infirmary," he said slowly, "I . . . bought you a few things." Standing, Snape held out his hand to help Harry up. Suspicious, Harry took it, and Snape led him to his room.

It took a few moments to realize that his desk was fully covered; books, he saw, but he'd have to get closer to see what else. He glanced at Snape, even more suspicious now, but surprised enough he couldn't bring himself to feel angry.

"On the desk," Snape snapped, then seemed to control himself. "Some books – some wizard and some muggle – some games, and . . . an assortment of activities to keep you busy," he continued, sounding tense. "I do expect you to keep up with your studies, but that should keep you entertained otherwise." Snape finally looked at him. "There is also a new bag, on the chair. It is charmed to be bigger on the inside, so you may take more with you when we leave."

"We're staying at Hogwart's?" Harry asked, and Snape nodded. Looking over at the pile of things on the desk, Harry shook his head. _Maybe Snape really is sorry_ , he thought. He looked back at Snape.

"Thank you," he said honestly. "I . . . er . . . thank you, _really_."


	22. Chapter 21 - Meeting with Dumbledore

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews again! Sorry for the late update. Internet went out. Next chapter should be on time. Dumbledore's hard to write, also!**

 **Also a note on the Dark Arts for this story. I've diverged from cannon version of the Dark Arts, I'm sure. There's more to it than what I'm currently portraying, but you'll learn more about it as time goes on. That's all I'm saying on it now. Anyway, enjoy, review, whatever . . . :) This chapter seems short to me, but I swear its just about as long as the others . . . necessary for an inbetween, though, I think.**

 **Chapter 21 – Meeting with Dumbledore**

Harry stood at his desk, looking over at everything that Snape gave him. His professor finally went into the other room after he was satisfied that Harry would let him know if he started to feel worse or strange or different at all, leaving him to stare at the gifts – _could_ he consider them gifts? – in peace.

 _Bribes, more like_ , he thought, which angered him a bit more, but after a moment, Harry relaxed. As angry as Harry was that Snape thought him shallow enough to be able to buy his way into pretending to be his father – or whatever the reason - he did appreciate that he didn't have to choose between studying and staring off into space. And from how it looked, Snape got him a bunch of things to do. Things Harry never would have thought to pick up himself . . . Harry picked up one of the books near the edge of the table, _How to Draw People_ , it read. Underneath, the book said, _Drawing Wildlife_. A few other books like that, and underneath it all was a sketch book.

Harry gave a laugh. He honestly never really thought about drawing before, not since primary school. _Wouldn't hurt to give it a try_ , he thought as he saw a step-by-step instruction of how to draw a lion. Briefly, he wondered if he could find a way to animate a drawing.

Snape hadn't been lying when he said he had gotten him an assortment of activities to do. Deciding he'd look at most of it later, Harry chose one of the novels on top, and sat down on his bed, looking around the room. It hadn't been touched, much to his surprise. He had half expected that Snape had burned everything.

A few hours later, Harry finished the book, putting it aside. What he wouldn't give to be able to travel through time, to any planet he wanted. The book was muggle, he knew, and from what he read so far, muggles seemed to have a better imagination than wizards.

It was only a few minutes later that Snape appeared in the doorway, ruining what little good mood Harry had managed.

"The headmaster would like to have breakfast with you," Snape said, causing Harry's anger to flare up.

" _Now_ he wants to talk to me?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Yes," Snape said flatly, but Harry could tell that Snape was just as mad at Dumbledore as he was. "Do you feel well enough to walk to the Headmaster's office?"

"Yes," Harry said, more attitude in his tone than he meant. He wished people would stop asking him if he was okay.

No, he wasn't. _Stop fussing_ , he wanted to say. He could understand if Mrs. Weasley was there, because she fussed over everyone, but when it was people who didn't seem to _care_ about him most the time, it was getting frustrating.

"Watch your tone," Snape said sharply, and Harry looked away. "Take a few things to do with you," Snape said. "I need to start working on the counter curse, and I'm not sure how long the Headmaster will keep you with him. Standing, Harry put a few books into the bag Snape had gotten him, along with random stuff from the desk. He doubted he'd get bored reading, but for once in his life, it felt good to have the option of doing things while being locked way in a room.

Snape kept behind him while they walked up to the other side of the castle, and Harry felt like he had to keep looking behind him to make sure Snape wasn't planning to do anything he shouldn't, but Snape just looked at him, unreadable. They _did_ make it to the gargoyle guiding the office without stopping, but Harry leaned up against the wall when they got there, dropping his bag.

As Snape picked up his fallen bag, Harry wondered if Snape would let him use a broom to get around. Flying wasn't so exhausting. Gripping the broom might be a bit hard, he realized as he looked down at his sore hands, flexing them.

 _Hopefully Snape is really good at coming up with counter-curses_ , Harry thought. If the rumors were true about Snape being into the Dark Arts, maybe he knew a lot about fighting them, too.

Harry could only hope. Still, if he managed to sneak some time alone, maybe he could look to see if he could find anything in his notes. He had returned the books for the Restricted Section already, but maybe, since he was there during the summer, he'd be able to get in to look.

After Harry rested a bit, Snape gave the password and they went up the stairs, Snape still carrying Harry's bag. In the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore's desk was mostly clear, with way too much breakfast foods piled on platters. Harry felt his stomach churning at the thought of eating any of it. Food really didn't seem like a good idea, even though he did feel vaguely hungry. Still, Snape ushered him to the visitor's seat waiting for him, putting the bag down next to the chair, and Dumbledore came in a moment later.

"Right on time!" Dumbledore said, a bit too cheerful.

"I will be on my way, then," Snape said. "If you wouldn't mind telling me where Lucius has gone?"

"Of course," he answered. "They will be staying on the fifth floor, east wing. Across from the painting of talking horses."

Neither of the adults spoke for a moment, and Harry looked between them curiously. Were the Malfoys really going against Voldemort? With how Draco Malfoy had talked about the dark wizard in the past, he thought they'd be on _his_ side, not Dumbledore's.

"So, you've come to an agreement, then," Snape said flatly.

"Yes. They will stay here for the summer, but we will move Lucius and Naricissa to a safe house before the new school year starts." Snape nodded once and left, and Harry reluctantly watched as Dumbledore sat down in his chair across the desk.

"Hello, Tristan," Dumbledore said, some of the cheer finally leaving his voice.

"Hello, Headmaster," Harry said warily, wondering if there was a reason Dumbledore was calling him 'Tristan' and not 'Harry' when they were alone.

"Would you like your grades for the year?" Dumbledore asked, pulling an envelope from a box off to the side. He gave it to Harry without waiting for an answer, and Harry looked at it, annoyed. He didn't really care what his grades were; he'd look at it later. What he wanted was to go back to his room, but he didn't foresee that happening any time soon.

"Thank you, sir," Harry mumbled as an afterthought.

"You're welcome, my boy. Now, there are a few things I do wish to discuss with you, the first being the issue regarding your faked death."

 _Oh,_ Harry thought glumly. He almost forgotten about that, with being cursed.

"Now, it is in our best interests at the moment to let everyone think you are dead, so I've-"

"Why?" Harry asked. "Why is it better?" He remembered the pain it put his friends through. Hermione was still researching in the library up until they left for the train to go back.

"For one," Dumbledore said gravely, "it will hide you better. From what information we have, there are very few people – perhaps only Voldemort and ourselves – that truly know you are not dead, so no one could suspect you. Also, if we act as if we think you are dead, too, it may confuse Voldemort, at least a little. I believe he assumed that I knew where you were, and if he has cause to believe that _I_ believe you have died, it may keep you hidden from him that much longer."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, feeling like he was missing something. "But he wouldn't actually _believe_ that, would he?" Harry asked. "I mean, _he_ faked my death, so he couldn't believe that I was actually dead."

"No, but it may plant a seed of doubt, my boy."

"But he's been talking to me," Harry said. "As Tristan. What if you pretend I'm dead, and he thinks that it's only _because_ I'm already Tristan?"

Dumbledore looked at him with surprise, and Harry scowled at the old man. "He may very well think that, but he has not confided in anyone we know. It is unwise to make a move without more information."

Harry glared at Dumbledore. Letting everyone think he was dead meant he _couldn't_ go back to being Harry, and Harry knew that, as Harry, he let Voldemort kill him.

But, as Tristan, Voldemort might kill him anyway, if the wizard got his hands on Harry, and he was dying already, wasn't he? From a curse, although they said it wasn't Voldemort who cursed him. He felt trapped. No matter what he did, it seemed, he was destined for nothing but _death_.

"Tristan, I have planned a memorial service for Harry Potter for a couple days from now, here at Hogwarts. I wanted to warn you, as many of your friends, and your family, should be here mourning."

"My family?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Yes. Unfortunately, I have found out that in my absence, the Dursleys were not informed of your death. I will make a stop later today and escort them here myself."

Harry scoffed. "They won't come," he said. "Especially since they went to a lot of trouble to get me a tutor when I said I didn't want to go back to Hogwarts, and then I left, anyway."

Harry stopped and thought about what he had just said, then shook his head. The Dursleys had only been sort-of nice because they thought he hated magic, they hadn't been nice because they actually _liked_ him. No, Harry was sure they'd refuse to come.

"Ah, yes. Well, I do believe they will change their minds. Without the blood wards there, now, Privet Drive is no longer safe for them."

 _What_? Harry thought. "You think Voldemort will go after the Dursleys? What would _that_ do?"

"He did fake your death," Dumbledore said gravely. "We have to expect that he'd take any and all measures to try to draw you out of hiding, and targeting your family would be a safe bet, would it not?"

Harry didn't point out that he wasn't sure he'd even _try_ to save the Dursleys if they were in trouble, which he felt bad about for thinking, but it were true. The Dursleys wouldn't try to save him, that was for sure.

"So, you'll bring them for the memorial service, and then . . . bring them somewhere else?"

"Yes, but perhaps not immediately. I admit, I wasn't planning on having to find a place for them. Being adverse to magic, as I believe they are, I must find an acceptable solution."

"So where will they stay?" Harry asked, his voice tight because he knew what Dumbledore was going to say.

"Here, of course. Now, I know there is magic everywhere, here, but I do believe I can find a corner of the castle where there won't be much to scare them." Dumbledore talked a bit about different areas of the castle, but Harry half tuned him out, wondering what the Headmaster was thinking. Surely, there must be a bigger reason than, 'I don't have a place to keep them right now,' to have the _Dursleys_ stay at Hogwarts. He was sure there were plenty of places he could keep a bunch of muggles.

That was _ridiculous_. The thought made him laugh, and Dumbledore stopped talking. At least he'd have an amusing time watching them freak out, and they wouldn't know it was him, anyway.

"Nothing," Harry said, and Dumbledore gave him a sad smile.

"I am sorry, to have to burden you with this so soon after a traumatic experience," Dumbledore said kindly, and Harry shrugged.

"That's okay," he mumbled, annoyed that Dumbledore was able to sum it as a _traumatic experience_. It would be funny to watch the Dursleys deal with magic _everywhere_ , though.

"Now, I assume your father has been taking care of you sufficiently since your release from the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore mentioned, and Harry shrugged. It had only been a few hours.

"Yeah," Harry said, " I guess. He bought me a bunch of stuff, at least, but he took the _bathroom door_ away," he complained. The headmaster looked at him with amused understanding, and Harry glared back.

"All for your safety, Tristan. We wouldn't want your life to be endangered because you locked yourself in because you were angry, would we?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry wondered why it was that everyone seemed to think he was prone to having angry fits and locking himself away. That seemed more like something Snape would do.

Right?

"I know his treatment of you these past few months were unacceptable. It will not happen again, I promise you that."

"He was _awful_ ," Harry said, glad it could finally complain about it. "I mean, he said-"

At that moment, the floo made a noise and Albus held up his hand to stop Harry from talking. Crossing his arms in annoyance, Harry sat back in a huff.

"One moment, Tristan, I must see who is calling," Dumbledore said before going to the floo. "Ah, Bill, how are you? What can I help you with?"

"Professor Snape said to get in touch with you, I was told, about Tristan. Mom said that Tristan's been cursed and he may need help breaking it."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, and Harry wondered if everyone knew he was dying already. "Come on through, please. I will let him know you are here."

Dumbledore produced a patronus silently, sending the phoenix off to find Snape. Harry watched as Bill came through, and as soon as he saw Harry, he come over to him, kneeling in front of him.

"Hi, kid," Bill said. "Your arthimancy going any easier?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, looking at the envelope that held his results.

"Good," Bill said, sounding happy about that, and Harry watched his curiously. "So, I'm going to cast a few tests on you, if that's alright with you? I want to see what I'm dealing with."

"Okay," Harry said hesitantly, and Bill started mumbling something, twitching his wand here and there every so often. Some of the tests made his feel tingly or too warm or too cold, but Harry let them continue. He guessed Bill knew what he was doing. After a few minutes, Bill sat back on his legs and gave Harry a look. "What?" Harry asked, worried.

"I haven't seen a curse like this," Bill admitted. "I am used to working with cursed _objects_ , though, not curses on people, so I have some research to do. Whoever contained it knew what they were doing . . ."

Bill trailed off.

"But?" Harry asked. He knew there was more.

"They contained it with dark curses. I suppose they did what they had to, but . . . do you feel anything horrid, Tristan?"

"I feel sore. Is that what you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well . . . I'm not sure. But there's a lot of Dark Arts that have been cast on you. You don't feel . . . I don't know . . . _horrid_?"

Harry shook his head. "Just sore, but I think that's from the original curse."

"Right," Bill said, looking troubled, and Harry wondered if Bill thought all the Dark Arts were bad, too. He decided to not mention anything about it, not sure if he felt bad or annoyed at remembering that _that_ sort of magic was considered bad by most people, even if they didn't _really_ understand it. Bill looked at Dumbledore, who gave Bill a smile. Harry glared at both of them, wondering what Bill wasn't saying. A moment later, though, a note appeared on Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore picked it up, read it, and handed it to Bill.

"Right," Bill said again. "Really . . . Malfoy?" he sighed. "I guess I've worked with worse," Bill said, giving Harry a look. If Harry cared, he probably would have schooled the annoyed scowl he was sure was on his face, especially since Bill was helping, but again, he wasn't being told anything.

 _Anything_. He wondered if Snape would tell him what was worrying Bill, later.

"I'll you see later, okay, kid? I may need to cast a few more tests."

"Okay," Harry said, shrugging, and Bill left.

"Now, back on task," Dumbledore said. "It's not every day you get to visit your own funeral while still being alive. Is there anything in particular you'd like?"

Harry glared at Dumbledore, not wanting to think about how dead Harry Potter was seeming to be.


	23. Chapter 22 -The Thing About a Funeral

**A/N: Thanks again everyone for the reviews! Now, onward!**

 **Chapter 22 – The Thing About a Funeral . . .**

Harry was sitting next to Snape nearest the door to the Great Hall, watching the people wander in. Dumbledore had made Snape go – "To show good faith," he had said – and since everyone would be at the memorial service, Harry had no choice but to go. Harry _was_ upset. The last thing he had wanted was to go to his own _funeral_ , an in-his-face reminder that if he were to ever become Harry Potter again, it wouldn't be – at least – until the war was over.

The Dursleys, he noted, had yet to show. Dumbledore had told him that he brought them two days ago, but hadn't told him anything else on the matter; seemed to try to get off the topic as quick as he could, actually, so Harry had a feeling there had been a _lot_ of problems getting them there. Not that it surprised Harry; it he were honest, he would have like to see Dumbledore's efforts; he could have used the laugh. In any case, it doubted any of them were going to the service.

To Harry's irritation, about half an hour after they got there, Snape pulled Harry to his feet and guided him through the room, stopping every so often to talk to someone he knew. Harry found himself staring at Snape a few times.

Snape seemed so _normal_. He was used to the man not talking much, and when he did it was stern or angry or flat, but here Snape was, talking with everyone like . . . well, like Harry himself would. Snape, though, seemed to have a better handle at these types of things, because he was always polite, always asking the other person how they've been doing, what they've been doing and a lot of other questions like that. Harry usually just found himself saying hi, and then, if he couldn't think of anything to talk about, he would just stay quiet. This was almost akin to the Dursleys, how he seemed to know so many people.

It seemed, he had to admit, less faked than his Aunt and Uncle's attempts, though.

While Snape chatted away, Harry couldn't help but think about what his relatives were actually doing at that moment. Was someone with them, trying to get them to come? He remembered that Mr. Weasley was appalled that the Dursleys didn't want to say goodbye to him when he was leaving for the school year, what would everybody think if they didn't want to come to his funeral.

Harry tried to shrug the thought off, actually shrugging, he realized, when Snape put a hand on his shoulder. Harry looked up at the man, but he was still talking to the same lady; some cousin of Professor Sprout who also brew potions. Nothing interesting.

Harry gave a start as he looked toward the door; walking through was _Dudley_ , being guided by McGonagall. He looked scared, and seemed to be trying to get _behind_ McGonagall, but his professor was dutifully keeping behind him. She walked him up to the front, where there were pictures and things that were supposed to summarize his life.

Harry took a step to follow, but Snape's hand was back on his shoulder, tighter this time, holding him there. He looked up to see Snape give a single shake of his head, and Harry shook his head himself.

"Can I look at the pictures, Dad?" Harry finally asked. "I want to see everything."

Snape gave him a look that clearly said to behave. "Of course," Snape said instead, and guided him through the crowd to the front. Harry pretended to look at the moving pictures while he focus on what Dudley was doing. He wondered if McGonagall had to threaten to curse him to get him there, but if that were the case, where were Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia?

"What's that?" Dudley asked. His voice was shaking, but nonetheless, he seemed to be actually _looking_ at everything.

"That was during Harry's fourth year, the Triwizard Tournament," McGonagall said, and Harry scrunched his face up at his professor's use of his first name. She _never_ called him by his first name. Apparently, all you had to do was die . . . "The task was to get a false egg from the dragon's nest; he managed it by flying. He was a magnificent flyer."

" _Dragon_?" Dudley asked, sounding less nervous. "He fought a _dragon_?"

"Well, he didn't fight it," McGonagall said. "He had more sense than _that_. He did manage to get past it without getting killed, which was quite a task."

"Does _everyone_ have to go up against a dragon?"

"Oh, goodness, no," she said. "But your cousin did have a habit of getting himself into adventures."

" _Harry_?" Dudley asked incredulously. Harry used all his will to not look over to see what Dudley looked like at that moment. He never told the Dursleys anything about what happened at Hogwarts; they never wanted to know. "Are you sure? Like what?"

"Well, his first year he saved the Philosopher's Stone from you-know-who-"

"What's that?" Dudley asked, sounding confused, although that did seem to be a rather common state for his cousin.

"A magic stone that allowed someone to live forever, if they kept drinking the water it makes," she told him, sounding exceeding patient. "You-know-who was trying to come back from his half-living state, and Harry was able to stop him."

Dudley didn't answer, the effort of thinking of Harry as more than something as a freak probably being too much for him at that point.

"Second year, he saved his friend, Ginny Weasley, from you-know-who when he kidnapped her, saving her life, and fourth year, he won the Triwizard Tournament and escaped from you-know-who again."

McGonagall paused, probably seeing there were no more questions coming from Dudley, and Harry looked at Snape, who seemed irritated to be there. Daring a look at his professor and cousin, Harry took one last look at Snape before going closer. He managed to fool _Hermione_ , he could fool Dudley; he wasn't worried about anyone thinking he was Harry Potter anymore, anyway.

Snape didn't stop him, thankfully.

"He was also a superb flyer," McGonagall continued. "He played quiddich starting in his first year as a seeker. He never told you any of this?" She asked, sounding skeptical.

 _Of course not_ , Harry thought. _They didn't want to hear about anything freaky_.

Dudley still didn't answer. After a few moments of him staring at the moving pictures, probably confused by them as much as trying to figure out why everyone didn't think Harry was a freak like his parents did, McGonagall moved.

"I will leave you to look. Perhaps I'll find some of Harry's friends to talk to you about him," she said, sounding a bit standoffish, and she left. A moment later, he noticed Harry – well, Tristan – standing near him.

"Did you know him?" Dudley asked, and Harry looked up at his cousin. If he looked big when they were the same age, he seemed absolutely _massive_ now. He was almost as tall as Uncle Vernon.

"No," Harry answered. "I just started at Hogwarts this last year, and I guess he wasn't here."

"Then where was he?"

"What?" Harry asked, for the lack of anything other to say.

"Where was he, if he wasn't here? He left with someone, and my parents thought it was to come back here. They were very angry." Snape came up to stand behind Harry, and Dudley noticed him for the first time. "Hey, he left with you! Mom said that . . ."

Dudley, for once, seemed to know when to shut up. Snape probably had _that_ look on his face, and he had yet to find anyone who was willing to mess with Snape in that mood.

"I was. I brought him to a safe house, where he was supposed to be taken to another safe house, where I'm sure he was supposed to stay."

Harry looked at Snape and scowled at him. Leave it to Snape to suggest the reason he died was because he was breaking the _rules_.

"How did he die?" Dudley asked, and Harry was surprised that he sounded almost sad.

"No one knows, but it is assumed that the Dark Lord – you-know-who – killed him. It was possible Potter, from his position at the safe house, heard something he felt he needed to stop. Many consider him a hero."

Harry stared at Snape, as Dudley tried to process what the man said.

"A _hero_?" Dudley asked. "He . . . he flew on a broom like a-a _witch_ and found dragons and saved people? _Harry_? Was he, like, a superhero, and Harry was just his . . . his cover or something? Like _Superman_?"

Harry had to try _really_ hard not to laugh.

Really, really, _really_ hard not to laugh.

"Hardly," Snape said. "He was simply a wizard boy who found himself in dangerous situations too many times. Tristan, will you be alright if I talk to Professor McGonagall? I will keep you in sight. If you feel you need me, don't hesitate to call me back over."

"I'll be fine," Harry said, although he noted he was starting to feel exhausted again. He'd sit soon, he decided, after talking to Dudley . . . even though he wasn't sure _why_ he wanted to talk to Dudley at all.

Snape walked away, leaving him alone with his cousin who thought he was dead.

"Well, I think he _must_ have been a superhero," Dudley said once Snape was gone. "Maybe no one knew it, but he didn't seem very hero like at all at home, either. It was very easy to catch him, and everything." Harry shrugged. "What was that game that McGonagall said he played?"

Harry spent about fifteen minutes answering Dudley's questions about the magical world. Now that it seemed no one was going to curse him, he seemed more comfortable around wizards than Harry thought possible and fell back into his confident, I'll-do-what-I-want attitude. He wondered, though, what Dudley would do when Hagrid came around. He _really_ hoped that Dudley wouldn't get the half-giant in trouble for giving him the pig tail.

"I'm going to go try to get Mom and Dad to come here. I'm sure they wouldn't be as angry if they knew what sort of stuff Harry did!"

Dudley left, leaving the Great Hall quicker than it seemed he should, wondering at the change in Dudley. _He's still a bully,_ Harry thought.

Not wanting to talk to anyone else, Harry sat in the closest seat, glad to be sitting but feeling pathetic just the same. It didn't seem to matter, though, because everyone seemed to be content to ignore him, and Harry listened to the conversations around him.

* * *

Severus mingled while he watched Potter speak with his cousin before the boy finally sat down, looking exhausted, and he wondered what, exactly, was the cause. Perhaps an energy potions might help him stay awake for longer than six hours . . . given, of course, that it doesn't put too much strain on his body.

They hadn't gotten very far in their research on the curse that was killing him, mostly because they could find no references to it. Lucius and Narcissa learned it from Bellatrix, and Bellatrix had no recollection of learning the curse.

Not surprising, given her extended stay in Azkaban; it was unfortunate that she remembered magic as well as she did.

Bill Weasley hadn't been happy at Lucius' use of the Dark Arts for containment of the curse, but the man agreed that it seemed it would hold. The curse, though, was harder for him to detect because of the containment and the best way for Weasley to study it would be to remove the containment spells. _Which he could not do_ , because it would kill Potter before they would be able to determine anything. So, that left them to continue scouring the library for clues.

There were _thousands_ of books in the restricted section. Some, they could cross off the list completely, but . . .

Severus was distracted by Lupin walking up to him solemnly as Professor Vector bid him goodbye.

"Yes?" he asked before Lupin could greet him.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said, thankfully lacking his usual false-cheeriness.

"Didn't bring your dog today?" he asked harshly, and Lupin gave a small laugh.

"No, no. I don't see the point of having a dog at a funeral, especially considering the dog didn't know the boy who died."

"No," Severus said slowly, feeling something strange about that comment. The dog _did_ know Harry Potter, without a doubt.

"I've heard that poor Tristan's come into a spot of trouble," the man continued. "Would you mind if I had tea with him soon? He was quite an enjoyable child last time I spoke with him."

"No," Severus repeated, narrowing his eyes. First, he wouldn't allow his son to be alone with a _werewolf_. Second . . . " _What has he told you_?" Severus hissed as quietly as he could.

"Only the truth, Severus. And Tristan is ill, he could use all the support we can muster up."

"That mutt-" Severus started to spit out when he saw a woman who had no business being there. Quickly, Severus looked toward Potter, who was still sitting in the chair near the photo table.

Directly in line with the woman's path.

Immediately, Severus went to Potter, standing next to him. The boy looked up at him curiously at his sudden appearance, but Severus paid him little mind as he watched the woman slow. She gave a dark smile and a nod in his direction before picking up a conversation with someone she stopped near.

"Who was that?" Potter asked as Severus helped him to a stand.

"The mother of one of the Ravenclaws who had been expelled," Severus answered, directing him in the direction towards Albus. He needed to inform the Headmaster, but he wasn't going to leave Potter sitting alone again.

"What?" the boy asked, sounding nervous. "They said they were going to leave me alone until next school year!"

"What?" Severus stopped their walk. "When did they tell you that?"

Potter opened his mouth to talk, but was cut off by a voice that stopped his heart.

"Harry Potter," the voice said slowly, as if the speaker were right in the room, "is dead." Severus looked around anxiously, trying to find the source of the voice.

Not in the room, as far as he could tell. Severus let out a breath slowly, bringing Potter closer to him. The boy didn't resist as the occupants of the room started to come out of their shock and began to panic.

"Harry Potter," the voice continued, "cannot rescue you. Harry Potter . . . was not the savior you thought he was."

Severus stood still, arm around Potter's shoulders, as panic spread throughout the Great Hall. He stood quietly as wizards bumped into him, as witches ran past him. He held on tight as Potter's breathing because erratic from fear.

 _An attack?_ Severus wondered. It couldn't be; The Dark Lord would need a basis for an outright attack, and an army. He began to relax as the Dark Lord failed to continue speaking.

 _Perhaps just a scare_ , Severus thought, and looked around to see Albus making his way to the platform at the front.

"Silence!" the Headmaster said, his voice magically projected across the hall, and the occupants of the Great Hall froze. "Voldemort is merely trying to scare us."

"But he's _here_!" someone yelled. "He's somewhere _here!_ "

"He is nowhere on Hogwart's grounds," Albus said calmly. "I can assure you, we are safe here."

"What if he attack?" someone else yelled. "We have no defenses ready!"

"We don't need defenses, because he will not attack. He has no army waiting outside the gates, no power at the moment except to scare you, and that is his intent. Let us continue honoring the life of Harry Potter, as we are meant to do here today."

"What did he mean when he said Harry Potter was not who we thought he was?" a third person asked.

"As I've said, Voldemort's intent is to scare you and confuse you. Do not let him."

Even Albus couldn't keep the questions from coming all at once, then. The crowd was afraid to relax, afraid to leave, and it took nearly two hours to convince them that the Dark Lord had left, and only after he sent Lupin and Arthur as scouts around the grounds of the castle in search of anything that could be out of place.

Severus had pulled Potter to the wall near the exit behind the staff stable as soon as he felt it safe to do so, and conjured a chair for the boy to sit on; now that the occupants were satisfied their life was not in danger, the service was to continue, and Severus looked to Albus expectantly. With a nod of dismissal from the old man, he helped Potter to his feet and they made their way back down to the dungeons.

Potter hadn't spoken a word throughout the entire proceedings.

"Tristan," Severus said as they entered their rooms, and Potter looked up at him, the fear obvious in his eyes. "He is merely trying to scare everyone. He doesn't know you are here." Severus closed the door, warding it tight. "Neither you as Harry Potter, nor you as Tristan. He cannot truly know you are alive, at this point, either."

"Why is he doing this?" Potter finally asked.

"Because if he cannot rule through power, he will rule through fear," Severus answered. "I believe he wishes to plant doubt in the minds of the wizarding world in the hope that many will be too frightened to resist."

Potter shook his head. "I don't . . ." The boy didn't seem capable of putting his feelings into words.

"It is war, Tristan," Severus said, making an effort to call the boy by his son's name. "Perhaps now, it will be a bit more obvious to those who didn't believe before."


	24. Chapter 23 - Opposites, Perhaps

**A/N: Here you go. Oh, thanks everyone for the reviews! Still a regular size chapter, I had a lot of trouble with this one, but I'm going to try to make the future chapters slightly longer, as per a few requests. I can't make them too long, though, because RL tends to get in the way and I'm also trying write my own story on the side, but I think it has gotten to the point that the story will flow better with slightly longer chapters . . . anyway, enjoy. Hopefully it turned out alright . . . a bit calmer this chapter . . . Some Harry and Snape at the end. More exciting stuff next chapter, I promise!**

 **Chapter 23** – **Opposites, perhaps . . .**

Harry glanced at Malfoy over his book. The boy had been antsy for the past week, and Harry found he still couldn't trust him, even though both the adult Malfoys had decided to turn their back on Voldemort.

 _Draco_ Malfoy certainly wasn't happy about it.

"Ugh, I _hate_ being inside all day. I bet it's _wonderful_ outside."

"Well, then go," Harry mumbled. "They probably won't stop you."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to come," Malfoy said, whining. It sounded sort of pathetic coming from someone who was sixteen. Or, at least nearly. He figured he was going to have to find out when Malfoy's birthday was.

Also, Malfoy was hard-pressed to leave Harry alone. It was getting _really_ annoying.

"That's fine. I'm probably going to take a nap soon."

"You're tired again?" Malfoy asked, sitting up in his chair at Harry's desk. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry grumbled. "I'm not going drop dead from being _tired_."

"No, but-"

" _Seriously_ , I'm fine," Harry interrupted. He hadn't had nearly any problems other than being tired and sore all the time, and he was used to the soreness now.

"Maybe we should have a house elf bring some food. It's nearly lunch."

Well, there was also the fact that he was rarely hungry, lately. Taking his shrug as consent, Malfoy called a house elf and ordered much too much food for the two of them. Neither of their fathers, busy in the sitting room, would eat yet.

"Maybe Mother will be willing to escort us outside after lunch," Malfoy said once the house elf left. He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Well, after you've had a nap."

Harry was about to retort that he'd rather stay in anyway when there was a knock at the door to the rooms. They exchanged looks. There weren't many professors left in the castle, and so far, none of them had bothered them on Snape's insistence that they needed quiet. Quietly, they stood and went to his doorless entryway as Snape answered the door. Even from across the room, they couldn't hear what they were saying, but Harry could tell it was McGonagall. A couple minutes of argument later, Snape ushered Dudley in and closed the door.

 _Dudley_.

"I expect respectful, appropriate behavior while you are here," Snape said to Dudley.

"Yes, sir," Dudley said, almost sounding honest. Harry supposed he was used to his cousin being sickeningly polite when he felt it was the best way to _get_ his way, although Harry couldn't think what he'd want _here_.

 _Why is he_ here _anyway?_ Harry thought.

"Is that the muggle?" Malfoy whispered while Snape went over rules with Dudley. "Potter's cousin?"

"Yeah," Harry said, wondering who thought it would be a good idea to have Dudley and Malfoy in the same room. "I met him before. Seemed nice enough," Harry lied. He really wasn't looking forward to dealing with any drama that was bound to happen any minute, now.

"He seems normal enough," Malfoy answered after a minute.

"He's just a muggle," Harry said, realizing he sounded irritated. "I had a few muggle friends when I lived with my mother."

"Really?" Malfoy asked. "Why?"

"There weren't any wizards near us," he told him. "Quiet."

Malfoy gave him a look that said he'd be quiet when he wanted to, but the boy shut up anyway. For few seconds, anyway.

"Dad said he ran into Potter's uncle. Absolutely horrid man, he said," Malfoy continued.

"Seriously, quiet!" Harry said as quietly as he could, hoping Dudley didn't hear him.

"Draco, a word," Snape said a moment after he stopped talking to Dudley, who was now walking slowly towards Harry, looking around the flat curiously.

It really was as tuned-in to the world as Harry had ever seen Dudley. Maybe getting away from his telly and video games and gang was doing him some good.

"Hi," Dudley said.

"Hello," Harry answered, and they stood there staring at each other for a moment. "Er . . . Professor McGonagall brought you?"

"Yeah," he said. "I was bored, and Mom and Dad are still refusing to leave our flat. This place is amazing, though! But there's only so many pictures you can talk to. I've missed so many of my shows, already, though."

Harry let Dudley talk on, going back and forth between complaining about how bored he was and the exciting stuff he'd seen. Mr. Malfoy was eyeing them with extreme distaste, although Dudley didn't notice at all. Draco had pulled himself into a straighter, haughtier posture as Snape spoke to him, probably warning him to behave, something Harry hadn't seen since before he became Tristan, and Harry knew this wasn't going to end well.

 _Dudley_ and _Malfoy_ in the same freaking room. It _had_ to be his worst nightmare. After Voldemort, of course.

Harry watch with apprehension as Malfoy approached them.

"Hello," Malfoy said with airs when he stopped. "I'm Draco Malfoy, although I'm _sure_ Potter had mentioned me, before. You can ignore what he told you. Just friendly rivals, we were. Had our arguments, of course, but nothing too serious."

 _Nothing too serious_? Harry thought to himself. Malfoy was trying to make himself look good to _Dudley_ by saying they were _friendly rivals_?

Harry had to stop himself from staring at Malfoy, jaw-slacked. He expected insults and fighting, not attempts at posthumous reconciliation.

"Hi," Dudley answered, sizing Malfoy up like he would someone before a fight. "Er . . . no, he hadn't, actually," Dudley said. "He wasn't allowed to talk about magic at home. I wish he had been, though. McGonagall was telling me some of the things Harry did, and . . ."

Dudley stopped talking; it seemed to Harry, from his cousin's expression, that Dudley was having trouble with feelings other than greed. It was all very well, Harry figured, especially since Dudley was part of the reason Harry wasn't able to talk about magic at all.

"He . . . wasn't allowed to talk about _magic_?" Malfoy asked, slowly.

"Go into the room, please," Snape called out, and Harry ushered them in, sitting back on his spot on his bed.

"No," Dudley said. "They always said magic didn't exist. Dad, especially, got really scared when they found out it _did_ exist and . . . well, we weren't allowed to talk about it. Mom got _really_ angry at me once when I asked what kind of school Hogwarts really _was_. Said it was for freaks and I wasn't allowed to talk about it anymore. I wish I didn't believe her, but . . ."

Harry looked at Dudley, trying to understand him. He hadn't known that Dudley had been curious about Hogwarts, and he obviously didn't know that Aunt Petunia, at least, knew magic existed before Harry got his letter, but Harry almost appreciated the sentiment.

Not that it _fixed_ anything.

Dudley noticed the food in the room at that moment – the house elves must have delivered it while they were in the other room – and started eating, albeit a little less messy than he usually did at Four Privet Drive.

"I can't believe he wasn't allowed to talk about _magic_!" Malfoy said, his snobby posture relaxing a bit in the surprise. "It's _everywhere_! In games and . . . what do you _do_ all day without magic?"

"Well, I have the shows on my telly," Dudley said. He seemed pleased that he had a one-up on Malfoy here, and sounded more like the spoiled Dudley Harry knew. "There's a lot of good ones, this year. I have my computer games. Dad will buy me any one I want because someone told him it's good for . . . something to do with hand-eye something, but even if it wasn't, I'd be able to convince him to buy them for me. Hang out with my friends, we usually wander the neighborhood," _and vandalize and bully kids_ , Harry thought. "There's lots to do! And whenever I get bored, Mom and Dad will get me something new I want."

"Well, I get to fly around the grounds of my manor any time I want. Mom even put lights up if I want to fly after it gets dark, and I usually have my friends come over to play chess or some other games," Malfoy said, and Harry sighed, wondering how long he'd have to endure a I-get-more-than-you argument between the wizard and muggle. It was better than actually fighting, he supposed, and he wasn't sure Dudley had enough brains to hold more of a conversation, anyway. "What's a telly?"

Harry tuned them out and let himself slide down into a laying position. He really _was_ tired, and those two being there wore him out even more. He figured now was a good time for a nap, since the two only seemed to want to out-brag the other at the moment.

* * *

 _He was aware of a burning feeling in his chest. A burning feeling that was getting stronger. It was . . . it was . . ._

Harry woke up with a gasp and it took a few moments to realize that Malfoy was looking at him in horror, Dudley looked confused, and Snape was running into the room, Lucius Malfoy right behind him.

"Tristan, what happened?" Snape asked, coming to his bedside.

"I think he just woke up gasping," Draco said, and Snape turned on him.

"You _think_?" Snape asked, flatly.

"Well, he was taking a nap, and he just gasped . . ." Draco shrugged. "Are you okay?" he asked Harry.

"Fine," Harry said. He could breathe now, anyway, although he was a little scared it was going to happen again if he went back to sleep.

"The charms just alerted me," Snape said, looking at Harry. "It is good to know you may wake up on your own if you stop breathing, but that might not always be the case." He turned to Malfoy. "Do you know of any charms that will alert me as soon as he stops breathing? Even if it only took a minute for him to wake, it could have been too late if something else were happening at the same time."

"We'll have to look," Malfoy said, then looked at Harry. "Are you having trouble breathing now?"

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, not happy at all the attention he was getting.

"Think about your answer, Tristan," Snape said. "You haven't stopped breathing in your sleep yet, and we need to determine why you did this time."

"I . . . I guess it's a little . . . er . . . rough, but it's not like I _can't_ breathe." Snape pulled a small box from his robes, before choosing a small potions vial and handing it to Harry. He drank it as he wished everyone would just leave the room.

Half an hour later, Snape and Malfoy left the three teenagers alone again.

"Are . . . are you sick?" Dudley finally asked, speaking up for the first time since Harry woke.

"He got hit by a bad curse," Malfoy said, sitting back in the chair next to the desk, a seat he seemed to claim for himself. Dudley started to look scared. "Don't worry, not here. It was because of the Dark Lord," Malfoy continued, and Harry wondered what kind of conversation the two had gotten into when Harry was asleep if Malfoy was reassuring Dudley. Malfoy seemed to notice his confusion and shrugged.

"He's not bad, for a muggle," Malfoy said hesitantly, and looked back at Dudley, who also shrugged.

"You're not bad for a wizard, I guess," he said, but Harry still looked at them, trying to figure out what happened. Perhaps he had stopped breathing for longer than they thought. Malfoy seemed to understand.

"Look, I'm not exactly happy to be stuck here during the summer, but Mother and Father explained that we can't be near the Dark Lord anymore . . . and I guess I agree, especially with you cursed like you were, so . . . well, I'd rather not be bored all summer. And Professor _Snape_ talked to me, and McGonagall and Dumbledore . . . Of course, wizard and muggle blood shouldn't be mixed, I still believe that."

"Definitely," Dudley said. "Draco's right on that. I mean, magic's cool and everything, but . . . someone magic and someone not magic marry? That's just . . . freaky."

Harry continued to stare at the two. "I . . . have to go to the bathroom," he finally said, and as he stood and walked toward the door, Harry noticed Malfoy starting to follow. "I can go on my own! It's not like there's a _door_ , I need all the privacy I can get!"

Harry rushed to the bathroom, but when he got there, he didn't bother trying to go. He didn't have a need, but he needed to get out of that room as quick as he could. _Maybe I did die, and this is some strange hell where I have to live out all my worst nightmares . . . nightmares I never even thought of before!_ Harry thought.

"Tristan?" Snape asked from outside the room, and Harry noticed he was standing in the middle of the bathroom, staring at the tub.

"Hi," Harry said. He had actually managed to avoid being alone with him for very long because Snape let him be in his room most the time, and Malfoy seemed to live to annoy him lately.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah." He leaned up on the tub.

"Did you have a fight with . . . Dursley?" he asked, and Harry shook his head.

"No, it's just . . ." Harry shook his head again, and looked toward to door opening. Snape seemed to understood and came closer.

A bit _too_ close for Harry's liking.

"Mal . . . _Draco's_ acting odd," Harry said. "I know I should be happy they aren't _fighting_ , but Malfoy's just accepted that Dudley's a _muggle_."

"Ah, yes. That. His mother cast a temporary behavior modifier on him to avoid troubles. Don't worry yourself with it. If they are getting along now, hopefully it will continue after it wears off." Harry gave Snape a horrified look. "I have not – and will not – cast such a charm on you. I do not like it, but it is common in certain pure-blood families in order to attain proper behavior at social events. It is usually only cast on small children, but she most likely felt in necessary in this instance." They stood in silence for a bit and Harry cast a look at the open door again. "No one can hear us," Snape told him, and Harry glared at him. It was as if Snape was reading his mind, even though he was sure the older wizard wasn't. "I haven't asked . . . are you still having nightmares and visions?"

Harry looked away. He was. Occlumency didn't seem to do anything, although he hadn't actually practiced much, other than just the basic clearing of his mind. Not like he did before Snape threw him out of his office.

"I don't think Occlumency helps stop the visions," Harry said finally. "I think I'm stuck with him in my head no matter what I do."

"You don't seem restless during the night," Snape said, and Harry looked at Snape suspiciously. What was he doing, watching him in his sleep? "You used to mutter in your sleep."

"Probably too tired to," Harry mumbled. "I'm still having them."

"I do believe you," Snape said harshly. "I was just noting the change."

Harry folded his arms and looked away.

"You did very well in your classes this year. As should be expected," Snape added, obviously trying to keep his voice calm. Harry was fine with the subject change, anyway. "You kept up with the modification assignment in potions," Snape almost sounded pleased, "and I've heard comments from your other professors that you've attempted to do similar studies in your other classes?"

Harry shrugged, not really getting what Snape was talking about. He didn't try to change the charms or anything, like he did with the potions. He just had gotten bored with reading about stuff he already knew, so he focused more on the theory _behind_ it. Well, he did that in Transfiguration, at least. Charms he had to work to keep up in, it felt like, so even though he did think some on the theory in his essays, it wasn't nearly as much as in his other classes.

Well, DADA had been ridiculous, so Harry didn't do anything more than he needed to for those essays – might have gotten a detention for that, knowing Umbridge – but Harry had kept up using the book Sirius and Lupin gave him and studying those Dark Arts books he found . . .

Harry turned away from Snape again, not wanting him to know about that, and Snape probably would try to kill him if he knew. Probably because he'd have to tell Dumbledore, and the last person Harry wanted to know about it was the Headmaster. Best to try to not think about it.

"Thank you, sir," Harry mumbled and he could feel Snape glaring at him, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"You should go back to your bedroom," Snape said. "Your friends are probably worried about you."

 _Friends, yeah_ , Harry thought bitterly, then brightened when he remembered he could use a school owl to send letters to his friends.

Then he remembered Hedwig. He had managed to sneak to the tower to see her a few times a week during the school year, but now that everyone thought Harry Potter was dead, he wasn't sure what was going to happen to her. Hedwig still recognized him, amazingly, and he'd feel awful if someone else decided to take her.

"Sir?" Harry asked hesitantly. "What's going to happen to Hedwig now that I . . . er . . ."

"The Headmaster has claimed her until such a time that you will be able to use her yourself," Snape said sharply. "He mentioned you may want to visit."

"I . . . in his office?" Harry said. "I don't . . . she wasn't there before . . ."

"She is an owl, Tristan," Snape said. "She flies when she wishes to."

"Right," he said hesitantly, relieved that Dumbledore was keeping an eye on his friend. With Malfoy trailing him and Snape lately, Harry doubted he'd be able to go to the Owlry any time soon.

"Go," Snape said. "Unless you need to use the bathroom?"

"No," Harry said and left, feeling a rush of magic as he walked through the silencing spell Snape had put up.


	25. Chapter 24 - Discoveries

**A/N: Ah! Long chapter. Hope you guys like it. Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I like seeing them. Next chapter will start the new school year . . . enjoy the rest of the summer! Hehe. Yeah.**

 **Chapter 24 – Discoveries**

Severus tapped the table a few times and the three boys looked at him. He sighed, waving their attention away. Albus had said he would be gone a day, perhaps two. This was the third day, and the Malfoys – minus Draco – and Dursleys were set to leave for a safehouse in less than two. In addition, classes started in less than two weeks, Minerva hadn't arrived back – along with any of the other Heads of Houses – and he had yet to hear any news of a new Potions Professor, so on top of researching extremely obscure, dangerous magic, he was preparing for teaching two subjects and greeting the slowly-arriving professors and making sure they didn't need anything.

"Father says Dudley will be learning from a _squib_ tutor," Draco said with an air, but Severus had come to believe it was a show. A week ago, the charm Narcissa had cast to help with the boy's attitude towards muggles wore off, leading to a rather large fight between the Dursley kid and Draco, but they appeared to be friendly again. Draco, though, kept bringing up his parents and rich, pure-blood upbringing as if he needed to compensate his friendship with a muggle, which the other two boys had been ignoring.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if Dursley even understood.

"Yes," Severus said as patiently as he could. "A squib and her family, all muggles, will be at the house, along with another wizarding family." Severus had argued with Albus to not have the Malfoys alone in the house with the Dursleys, and that had been the solution he had come to. Although the child had become relatively bearable over the weeks with adult influences other than his parents, Potter's Aunt and Uncle continued to be a wretched sort of intrusion. Dudley was convinced they were beginning to accept magic, but Severus doubted it.

"I wish I could stay _here_ ," Dudley complained.

"We'll write to you," Draco said. Severus made a note to himself that Tristan didn't answer; he seemed to put up with the Draco and Dudley's presence, but would rather spend his time writing his friends and spending time alone reading. A feat not easy when Draco had become rather protective of him. Overprotective, Severus noted, since the daily potions they gave him prevented any huge attacks. "You should eat, Tristan," the boy continued, and Severus watched _his son_ 's thin expression. He eyed the birthday foods and cake and shook his head, taking another sip from his cup.

The potions did nothing for his appetite, and little for the allergic reactions to many of the foods he was now having when he was persuaded to eat. Even specialists at St. Mungos were at a loss of what to do; the potions that healed the boys stomach lasted the shortest amount of time and only seemed to enhance the nausea and stomach pains at first, almost not worth the few hours he felt well enough to eat.

The boy was living on juices and nutritive potions; he had grown thinner and barely grew over the summer and each day, Severus worried that he would wake up to find the boy had died from starvation more so than any other cause. Reading and short games were all he seemed to have the energy for, and his birthday party – only a half an hour in – hadn't cheered him up.

"Try to eat something, Tristan," Severus said. "I made sure there is nothing you've reacted to before." With a glance at Severus, the boy reached out for a small, light-white-bread chicken sandwich and slowly nibbled on it. The bread had a strange texture, but it was one that made him less sick after eating. After a few small bites, he began to take larger bites and Severus gave him an encouraging smile.

"What kind of presents are you hoping to get?" Dudley asked, eyeing the pile at the end of the table. Tristan shrugged, taking another bite. It seemed Severus had timed the potion right and the food was sitting properly. Encouraged, Severus put another sandwich on his plate and moved a bowl of mixed vegetables in front of him, ignoring the glare he was receiving.

Despite Tristan's nonchalance at the prospect of presents, Severus knew he was excited for them; in addition to gifts from himself and Albus, he had received gifts from a few of his year-mate friends, Granger, Arthur and Molly, Bill, and more. He was acting calm now, but the boy's excitement when he woke up this morning had been hard to contain. It, perhaps, made up for the fact that Tristan was no longer celebrating his July 31st birthday but his August 13th birthday.

Severus tuned his thoughts to Tristan's curse as the boys' conversation moved on to quidditch and the latest World Cup teams.

* * *

If the library was kept quiet on a school day by Madam Pince and her assistants, it was if it swallowed sound during the summer. In the past, Severus would enjoy the peace, but now, in his anxious need to find an answer, it felt oppressive.

Severus and Lucius had managed a few theories on how the curse worked, but all the tomes that mentioned similar theories lacked details, and it was frustrating.

Severus _understood_ the Dark Arts. He invented several curses himself, but his attempts of reversing this one seemed to get him no further. He knew he needed more help, but was at a loss of who to talk to.

There was movement near the entrance of the Restricted Section, and Severus looked to see if Tristan had come for help – he was getting ready for his fourth year classes, although Severus had to admit the boy wouldn't need much help – but saw a girl instead, dressed in Librarian Assistant robes. She looked as if she had recently left Hogwarts – perhaps 18 years of age – but he didn't recognize her. He hadn't remembered mentions of anyone new, but he did skip the first meeting; it was always optional, but Albus held it anyway.

"Perhaps you can help me," Severus said, calling the girls attention. "I need to find a book on rhythm magic, but I can't seem to find the correct shelf section . . ." He pulled out his wand to call a copy of the directory to him, the girl flinching, and he glared at her. The last thing he needed was a member of the staff to be as nervous of him as a first year student. She didn't approach him. "Well?" he said, a bit harsher than intended, and flicked his wand. She flinched again.

 _Does she expect me to_ curse _her_? Severus thought bitterly. _Where did she go to school, anyway?_

After a moment, she walked away, looking angry, and Severus glared after her. She was getting paid to help in the library; even if she wasn't familiar with the layout yet, it would have been good experience. He scowled at her retreating form and made a mental note to mention to it Albus when he got back.

Which, hopefully, would be soon. If he still hadn't come back by the next day – the fourth day out – Severus was going to form a search party; he knew the general location Albus had been going, and hoped it would be enough to find him. Hopefully, alive.

As if Albus had known he was being thought about, a silvery phoenix appeared in front of him, not completely formed.

"My office," it said. "Quickly."

"Tristan!" Severus called, running out of the Restricted Section.

"Dad?" he heard Tristan say groggily.

"Hurry, I need to get to the Headmaster's office."

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"I don't know," I said as I helped the boy out of his chair and pulled him along out of the library. The excitement, thankfully, allowed him to keep up.

In his office, Albus had collapsed, looking as if he was trying to reach a bookshelf on the far side.

"Damn, Albus," Severus muttered. "Tristan, sit outside the office," he said, "but keep the door open." The boy didn't move, mouth opened slightly, eyes wide.

"What happened?"

"Now!" Severus shouted, and got to work.

Two hours later, he had managed to trap the curse in the headmaster's hand and, after a brief argument with the now-lucid man, he had taken a crying Tristan back to their rooms so the boy could go to bed.

"How can he be so calm that he only has a year left to live?" the boy asked, and Severus sat on the boy's bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"How do you stay so calm, even though you are cursed?" Severus finally answered.

"I don't feel calm most the time," he answered. "Mostly angry." Severus stared at the boy. He realized he had begun to think of him less as Potter and more as Tristan lately, but he was still surprised when the boy gave answers he didn't expect. He was beginning to think that the Potter he thought he knew didn't actually exist, was a mere figment of his imagination. The idea, at least, made it easier to think of Potter and Tristan as two separate people.

He took Tristan's hand and looked at it, not knowing how to console the boy. He _had_ noticed the increase of bitter attitude in the past couple of months; not misbehavior, at least, but far from the energy-filled boy he once was. Dropping the boy's hand, Severus stood.

"Goodnight, Tristan," he said and left for the sitting room.

* * *

Harry sat in the room off the Great Hall with Draco and Dudley. They were leaving soon for the safe house, leaving Harry alone with Snape, which Harry was only partially looking forward to. He was, because it meant he'd get time _alone_ , or at least as much of alone as Snape would allow, which was more and more over the past couple months, and wasn't because it meant he'd be alone. As much as Draco and Dudley were pains – Harry _had_ been right, they were both spoiled prats – them being around kept him from thinking too much on stuff. Listening to them argue and discuss muggle and wizarding sports and games and everything prevented him from . . . well, thinking in general. He didn't want to think about _it_. _Any_ of it.

He was afraid of being alone. There was only so much much reading he could do to distract himself, and he had finished all the books Snape got him. He even started writing his own story, but he got distracted easily and was almost ready to give it up, it not being much good anyway. Drawing was okay, but he could only get cartoon-y looking animals and not something real-like like he wanted, and the different games and crafts stuff Snape got him, although interesting enough, didn't make him forget like reading could.

Dudley looked as if he wished to say something when the Malfoys came into the room, dressed in proper robes like they always were. Harry wondered if they _ever_ wore something more comfortable, but never had the courage to ask Draco.

"Hello, Tristan," Mrs. Malfoy said. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he said, lying. "Just tired." Everyone in the room looked at him warily.

"Have you been able to eat more?" Mr. Malfoy asked, and Harry shook his head. He knew the adults preferred verbal answers, but they almost never rebuked him about it, anymore. Mrs. Malfoy gave him a quick hug.

"Don't hesitate to let us know if you need anything," Mrs. Malfoy said before standing up, and Harry couldn't help but think that the Malfoys might be nice enough if they weren't so stuck up.

"Bye, Tristan," Draco said. "See you in a few days, okay?"

"Okay, bye," he answered, leaving only him and Dudley alone. Dudley, who was staring at him like he was some sort of puzzle he nearly figured out. Unexpectedly, Dudley stood and leaned close to him on the table.

"I know who you are," Dudley said quietly, almost happy and looking towards the door.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he whispered. "It'll be our secret."

"What?" Harry asked again. "What do you mean?"

"I could tell because of how you ate," Dudley said. "At first. And, well, Snape came and got you and he didn't have a son _then_ , did he? No, he was alone. So, I think you're on some undercover mission," he continued, and Harry had to snap his jaw shut because it had fallen open sometime. He couldn't help but think that Dudley's logic was way off, because Snape _could_ have had a son but just didn't bring him, but . . .

"What?" Harry asked again. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know, you probably can't tell me, but I think it's really cool what you're doing," Dudley looked around again and then leaned in real close, "Harry," he whispered. "I never would have expected _you_ of all people to be a superhero, but then, I guess no one ever does, do they?"

Harry's mouth opened as he tried to say something, but nothing came out.

"Someday, you'll have to tell me all about your adventures," Dudley continued as if he didn't notice Harry drowning in his words. "I'll make Mum and Dad have tea with us when you're done with your mission and you can let us know everything you've done!"

Thankfully, Dudley had to stop talking because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon very loudly came into the room, complaining that they had to walk through the freaky Great Hall, claiming they were all wet now, even though the rain that looked like it was falling through the ceiling, in reality, _wasn't_ , and so Harry was saved from having to answer.

Dudley knew it was him? Harry knew that Dudley only thought it was him because he was thinking like Dudley – using the points he wanted to use and throwing out all the facts that didn't work – but in this instance, he was still right.

And _Dudley_ wanted to have _tea_ with _him_.

Snape came into the room a moment later, seeing him and the Dursleys. "Where's the Headmaster?" Snape asked Harry.

"Left. He said you were coming," Harry said, still somewhat stunned.

"He left you alone?"

"I wasn't alone," Harry said. "I'm _fine_."

"You have a _son_?" Aunt Petunia asked Snape rudely.

"Mum, I told you that," Dudley said, but she ignored him.

"And where's the mother? I haven't heard anything about a-a _witch_ around here?"

Harry's eyes widened. Aunt Petunia must have wanted to goad Snape enough that she was willing to say 'witch'. Which meant she _really_ didn't like Snape. It couldn't be because Snape took him from the Dursleys, could it? Harry was sure they didn't want him to stay _that_ much, but anyone could tell goading Snape was dangerous.

"Dead," Snape said flatly. "I _kindly_ ask you to mind your own business, Dursley. Tristan, come along. The Headmaster will escort them out of here." Snape's voice was dangerous, and Harry stood quickly to comply. He only hoped that Snape wouldn't take his anger out on him; it had been awhile since he had done so, but he wasn't in any sort of mood to take Snape yelling at the moment.

"Bye, Tristan," Dudley said, and Harry said goodbye back as his Uncle mumbled about his son associating with freaks and cursing Harry for putting them in danger, even though they thought he was dead.

"Why does she hate you so much?" Harry ventured to ask, but Snape just guided him forward, not answering. "Can I visit with . . . er . . . snuffles before school starts?" he asked, changing topics and looking over his shoulder.

"I will see if he's available," Snape said, and Harry smiled. He only got to see Sirius and Remus a couple times during the summer because Draco and Dudley were always around, so even if it was for a little while, he'd be happy.

Back in their rooms, Snape left Harry to his own devices, but, currently out of books to read, Harry sat on the sofa in the sitting room instead, bringing his knees up to his chin as he watched the fire. He heard Snape ruffling through scrolls of parchment behind him, and he couldn't help but wonder why it was taking so long for Snape to find a cure for him. Him _and_ Mr. Malfoy had been working on it all summer, but every time Harry asked, it didn't seem like they were getting any further. All the while Harry was having trouble eating and he'd wake up not breathing once in awhile and every other day he had to limp because his leg started hurting.

It wasn't a very good outlook, Harry had to admit. He was dying, and there was nothing _anyone_ could do about it, and now Draco was gone, and Dudley knew who he was but _he_ was gone, and it would probably be a few days before he saw Sirius, and it was still over a week before his friends came back to Hogwarts and . . .

Harry brushed at the tickle on his cheek, the tear smearing. He _wasn't_ going to cry.

He _knew_ he was dying, there was no point sense _crying_ over it, was there?

But he couldn't stop his eyes from misting up, and he tried to blink away the tears, but that only made them fall down his cheeks.

 _I'm not going to cry_ , he thought, but it only made him cry harder and before he could stop himself, a sob came out.

 _I'm such a baby_ , Harry thought. _Dudley's stupid to think I'm a superhero_.

Through his crying, he noticed Snape standing near him, but even as embarrassed as he was, he couldn't stop.

 _Go away_ , he wanted to yell at Snape, _you can't help me,_ but the man only took a few steps toward him, sitting down next to him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Harry stopped fighting as the sobs came out even harder, and soon, he felt Snape pull him down so he was laying against the wizard and he felt warm arms around him. Not even realizing he had been cold, Harry gripped one of the arms and leaned into his dad's chest, thinking, as he cried, that this had happened before, but not quite remembering when or why. Not quite caring that it was Snape he was crying on or that this was the man that hated him so much, because right at that moment, it didn't feel like Snape hated him, and that made him cry even harder.

By the time Harry ran out of tears, he felt so exhausted and his eyes felt so dry and sore that he almost fell asleep, but he was afraid that if he did, Snape would just leave him there.

"You can't find a counter-curse, can you?" Harry asked quietly into Snape's chest, his throat feeling raw.

"Not yet," Snape answered. "But I won't stop looking."

"But you know so much about the Dark Arts, don't you?"

Snape didn't answer at first.

"I do," Snape said. "I've rather enjoyed studying the Dark Arts in the past, but the curse you were hit with is older than I've dealt with previously.

"Old magic?" Harry asked. _Like, before it was considered the Dark Arts_?

"Yes, old magic. Older than the Headmaster and everyone else I know."

Harry tense, and he knew Snape felt it, but he didn't move. He did still have the books he borrowed from his friend. Perhaps Wyatt's dad had more books like that? But if he showed the books to Snape, Snape would know that he'd been studying the Dark Arts.

But, Snape just admitted he liked the Dark Arts, right?

"Did I tell you the Headmaster as appointed me as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year?" Snape asked him, and Harry shook his head.

"What about the curse on it? Is it only for a year?" Harry asked, still trying to decide what to do.

"The curse is only a rumor," Snape said, "I'm sure," he continued after a moment, although not sounded quiet so sure.

"Who's teaching Potions?"

"I don't know, yet."

Harry lay comfortably in Snape's arms before coming to a conclusion. He _had_ to show Snape the books. Maybe he already seen copies of them, maybe not, but it _was_ his life on the line, wasn't it? Harry started to fidget and Snape released him, helping him sit up.

It seemed to take a few moments for Snape to realize that's Harry's nervousness was from more than embarrassment.

"Is something the matter?" Snape asked, and Harry played with the hem of his shirt.

"I . . . er . . . might have a couple books that might help you . . . with that old magic thing . . . I mean, if you haven't already read them," Harry finished quickly.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, and Harry stood up, losing his balance in the process. After Snape helped him steady, he went to his room and pulled out the books from under his bed before he lost his nerve.

Snape was standing in the entrance to his room by the time he stood up, and Harry handed over the books, refusing to look the man in the face.

"Where did you get these?" Snape said after a moment.

"From Wyatt," Harry said quietly.

"And you've read them both?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, the word barely coming from his mouth.

"So, you _have_ been studying the Dark Arts," Snape said slowly. Harry, surprised that Snape suspected, looked up to see Snape looking at him with an unreadable expression. Snape was angry, maybe a little, but also . . . confused? Worried? That didn't make any sense.

"It's not really . . . _really_ all Dark Arts," Harry defensed himself. "And it's interesting. You said so yourself!"

"Not as such," Snape said slowly, and Harry shifted his weight and looked down again. If Snape was going to yell at him, he'd rather he'd yell already. "But I'm rather surprised you think so."

"Well, I need to learn to defend myself!" Harry said. "And you can't do that as well with regular spells, not for stuff like you-know-who does!" he yelled, remembering that horrible curse and why Snape held him that first time. "The books don't have a lot off stuff like that at all, but I've made some counter-curses for some easy ones . . ." Harry trailed off. He _really_ wasn't planning on telling Snape that.

"You've . . . _made_ . . . _counter-curse_ s _,_ " Snape said slowly. "You haven't just been _studying_ the Dark Arts, you've been . . . _practicing_ the Dark Arts."

"To protect myself!" Harry nearly screamed. "It wasn't like anyone _else_ was going to! Voldemort wants to _kill_ me, and he'll find a way, I _know_ he will!"

Harry didn't get why _Snape_ wasn't getting it!

"You've been _practicing_ the Dark Arts," Snape repeated, and Harry turned to run to his bed, but Snape caught him by the shoulders and turned him around. "What have you been practicing Dark Arts _on_?" Snape asked, his voice still sounding like he had been confunded.

"I . . . er . . . transfigured mice. Because they don't actually _feel_ you know? They just _pretend_ to because you _make_ them . . ." Harry trailed off. "So I transfigured them so they _didn't_."

"Dark Arts," Snape mumbled. "You. Transfigured mice."

Harry looked at Snape, confused. _Did_ someone curse Snape?

"It works better than regular Defense," Harry argued back. "I'm all out of practice because of Umbridge in Defense that I've been having trouble with _that_."

Snape looked down at him, and Harry took in a deep breath.

"Tristan, you understand that the Dark Arts are dangerous, do you not?"

Harry nodded. "That's why I need to learn it!"

"You need to learn Defense, yes," Snape said, sitting Harry down on a conjured chair and kneeling in front of him. "But not on your own, and not like this."

"It's not like I had anyone to teach me," Harry said quietly, glaring at Snape.

"No," Snape sighed. "You didn't." Another pause. "I'm sorry. It feels like every time I learn something about you, I learn how much I have failed to care for you."

Harry watched Snape wearily, but didn't say anything.

"What do you mean, you've been having trouble with Defense?"

"Umbridge didn't let us practice anything, and I've been having trouble with stuff I've already learned."

"But you haven't been having trouble in your other classes?"

"No, but we _practice_ in the other classes."

"I see," Snape said slowly and they sat in silent for a while.

"Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked quietly.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape reprimanded. "And no, I don't think I will."

Harry looked back at Snape. "Why not?" he asked cautiously, hoping that his asking wouldn't change Snape's mind.

"Because he does not need to know how I raise my son," Snape said sharply, and Harry started coughing. That was _not_ an answer he expected.

"I . . . your . . . but . . . I'm not . . ."

"We have to be," Snape said, answering the question Harry could not get out. "Neither of us may have liked it, but that's how it is now," Snape said resolutely, as if he had just made the decision. "I _am_ raising you, and the Headmaster is but that . . . your Headmaster. You have not put any student in danger," he continued, giving Harry a pointed look, and Harry shook his head. He would never! "so therefore, he does not need to know. _But_ you will _not_ study Defense on your own from now on. If you wish to study it, you will come to me."

Harry wanted to argue, but decided to keep him mouth shut for the moment. He felt as if he was getting away with a lot, right now, and didn't want to push it, and they fell into another silence.

"Will the books help?" Harry asked quietly, and Snape looked at them for a moment.

"Perhaps," he finally answered. "I have not seen them before, and they seem to touch on certain ideas I hadn't seen before . . ." Snape looked at him closely. "Are you alright?" he asked slowly, and Harry shrugged. "I understand it has not been easy to approach me in the past. But please, if you aren't, please come talk to me."

Harry looked at Snape and after a moment, he nodded, but unsure if he _could_ feel comfortable going to Snape if the man was going to change his mind again.

 _But he's here for you now_ , a voice in the back of Harry mind said, and Harry _really_ hoped he could trust that voice, because it sure led him wrong before.


	26. Chapter 25 - First Week of School

**A/N: Sorry for the super later chapter! Been sick and I can't focus on writing when I'm sick; I can _read_ and _sleep_ , and that's pretty much it. Hehe. **

**I reached over 200 reviews for this story so far! Thanks everyone for reviewing! I'll try to be better at updating regularly. Hehe. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 25 – First Week of School**

"Do you want to meet your friends at the carriages?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head. "Do you want to go see Draco?"

"No," Harry said quickly. Draco had been back for a few days already, and they had gone for their school stuff yesterday with a team or Order members to make sure they weren't going to get attacked. Harry wondered why, if they were so worried about Voldemort, why someone else didn't just pick up their supplies, but he hadn't complained about getting out of the school.

He never thought he actually _want_ to get _out_ of Hogwarts.

Neither of them had been allowed to ride the train, though, which had put Harry in a bad mood. He had been hoping to talk to Wyatt and Jake in the quiet of a train compartment before the feast; he knew Wyatt already knew something was wrong because Snape had asked Wyatt's dad for use of his library – although Snape promised he didn't tell him _why_ he asked for access – but he _knew_ he'd still be getting looks once everyone saw him.

He looked like a skeleton. He could count how many ribs he had just by looking in the mirror. His healer at St. Mungos – Healer Jacob – suggested a weight-gain potion, but it didn't seem to Harry that it was doing any good.

Healer Jacob was okay, Harry had decided shortly after he met him. He wasn't constantly asking Harry if he was alright like everyone else was, at least.

If Harry were honest, Snape wasn't either. Harry thought that Snape figured out that Harry was annoyed by the constant questions and just reminded him frequently that he could talk to him at any time. Harry still wasn't sure it was an offer he wanted to take up, but the fact that the option was there at least made Harry feel a little better about it.

"Do I _have_ to go to the feast?" Harry asked, and Snape looked at him as if he were pesky potions ingredient again.

"Yes," Snape said. "Even if it wasn't the first day of classes, there would be no one to watch you." Snape continued to stare at him. "Do you like Slytherin?" Snape asked, surprising Harry with the sudden change in topic.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Do you enjoy being in Slytherin, as opposed to Gryffindor?"

 _That's a strange question_ , Harry thought. He honestly hadn't given it much thought in the past.

"I guess," Harry said slowly. "It's really not that much different. I miss the tower, though. I like being high."

"Not much different?" Snape asked, sounding confused.

"Well, no," he said. "I think Ravenclaw might be the only house that's really different, but . . ." Harry trailed off. Another reason he wasn't looking forward to this school year, and he had completely forgotten it. He snuck a glance at Snape, who was looking at him oddly. "Like, I mean, _some_ things are different, but . . ." he shrugged. "I don't know."

Should he tell Snape about the Ravenclaws threat?

"I . . . er . . . I forgot to tell you, though, the Ravenclaws . . ." Harry trailed off as Snape's expression turned to slightly annoyed, but he pushed on anyway. "They know that we were . . . not talking to each other the end of last year and . . . well . . . well, they want me to do something for them," he managed to get out quickly.

"What is it they want?" Snape asked.

"I don't know. Rowe said he was giving me time to think about it . . . I don't think they're going to leave me alone, this year."

Snape watched him darkly, and Harry looked away.

"Find out what they want, but do not agree to anything," Snape said, leaving it at that. "We will go to the Great Hall now. The rest of the students will be arriving any moment."

The Great Hall was empty except for the Professors hovering around the Head Table and the moment they walked in, all eyes looked at Harry. He avoided their glances as Snape sat him down at the Slytherin Table as close to the Head Table as possible and met with the rest of the professors. Knowing they were talking about him, Harry put his forehead down on his hands on the cold table and waited.

After what felt like a very long time, someone sat down hard next to him and gave him a slight push. Looking up to find Wyatt staring hard at him, Harry went back to pretending to hide.

"You look like you haven't eaten all summer."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said sharply. "Its not like I can help it."

"Dad said you were hit with a dark curse," he said.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Where's Jake?"

"Got himself a girlfriend," Wyatt said. "He'll talk to you when we go back to the dorms."

"What?" Harry asked. "Who?"

"Jennifer Waynt," he said smugly, and Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"I thought she hated him."

"I think she still does," he said, and Harry narrowed his eyes at Wyatt.

"Then why are they going out?"

"No idea. But she doesn't seem pleased about it. Keeps acting like she's annoyed with him."

Harry shook his head again. "I'm not going back to the dorms, though. I have to stay in my dad's room. Just . . . in case."

"The curse is that bad?" Wyatt asked, his smile disappearing.

"Yeah. Almost killed me. Still might, if they can't find a way to reverse it." Harry sounded calmer than he felt about it.

They spent the rest of the feast in silence, Harry ignoring the stares of the students who noticed him and the worried looks of the professors.

The first class the next day was Defense, and Snape, embarrassingly, walked Harry straight from the Great Hall to class, through the group of fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors to the front of the classroom. Harry sat and, thankfully, Wyatt and Jake sat next to him quickly.

Snape lectured for nearly half the class – nothing Harry didn't already know – before having them pair up to test a shield charm. Harry knew he could cast it, being one that the fake Moody had taught them in his last fourth year, he stood across from Wyatt, the boy gave him a worried look.

"Are you sure I should be throwing hexes at you?" he whispered, and Harry glared.

"I can still do magic," Harry huffed, getting a look from Snape.

"Okay, well . . . I want to go first," he said. "You'll probably get it before me, anyway." So Harry sent a hex at his friend, who didn't really manage to get a shield up. Which didn't turn out bad because Harry's wand barely sparked.

A stinging hex didn't _spark_. Harry looked at the tip of his wand as if it would tell him what went wrong. He gave it a shake out of frustration and tried again.

"Hey! Give me some warning!" Wyatt said, rubbing his shoulder. The hex still didn't do much. Not like a stinging hex was supposed to, even though his friend didn't notice the lack of true sting. "Let me try the shield without you cursing me."

A few tries later, Wyatt managed a half-decent shield that managed to stop Harry's pathetic stinging hex. "Okay, you try, Tristan."

Ten minutes later, Harry barely managed something that didn't really stop any of Wyatt's hexes.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Wyatt asked and Harry merely gave a shrug, glancing over at Snape.

Defense was supposed to be something he was _good_ at.

The next few days were more of the same; Snape walked him to his first class, and he promised to stay with his classmates on his way to his following classes. Free periods were either spent with Snape or in the Hospital Wing. After a couple of days, Snape finally let him spend a short amount of time in the common room with his friends as long as he promised he wouldn't be alone at any time.

Harry could honestly say he wanted some alone time. He had to admit that Snape was acting nicer towards him, and although Harry wasn't exactly sure he could fully trust his fake-father, they had managed a few nice, personal conversations that were more Snape-asks-a-question-and-Harry-answers sessions than actual conversations. Harry was half-uncomfortable half the time because he wasn't used to an adult asking him questions about how he spent his day or what he had been doing with his free time, but Snape seemed to listen, and Harry found it was _nice_ to be listened to once in awhile. Even if it was for stupid stuff.

Finally, Friday – and Double Potions with the Ravenclaws – came, and Harry found himself wishing Snape was teaching the class. It was Professor Slughorn who was teaching this year, and although he didn't seem mean like Snape or crazy like Trelawny, Harry felt there was something . . . _off_ about him. Harry wanted to blame it on the fact that Slughorn was a Slytherin, but as he himself was in the Slytheirn house, his excuse didn't make much sense even to him.

That, and without Snape there, he felt like the Ravenclaws were watching him, even though he hadn't seen any of them look his way. He _tried_ to tell himself he was just being paranoid.

It was after class, following Wyatt and Jake and the rest of the fourth year potions class, did Harry finally feel like he could handle the Ravenclaws. They hadn't talked to him, hadn't even appeared to notice him this year, and halfway to the stairs out of the dungeons, Harry found himself relieved.

Suddenly, Harry felt a tingle, as if a charm was just placed on him, before he was roughly dragged into the corridor they were passing. He tried to yell out, but when no sound came out, he realized the charm must have been a silencing charm. Instead, Harry tried to turn to see who was pulling him down the corridor, but the hands were too strong, and they kept dragging him backwards.

Finally, they stopped, and Harry turned around, wand drawn, to face Rowe.

"Don't even think about fighting, Snape," the older boy said. "I know more hexes than you could probably conceive, and I'm willing to bet I'm a lot quicker than you, too. You look like you could barely lift your wand."

With Rowe's wand pointed straight at his head, Harry wasn't stupid enough to try anything.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, finding the silencing spell taken off.

"I think you know," he said dangerously. "Your _father_."

"No," Harry said, and he saw the other student's eyes grow dark.

"You may wish to consider," he said flatly. "He doesn't seem to be taking care of you very well, has he?"

"He's taken care of me fine!" Harry said. "I got cursed, and he's trying to find a way to reverse it."

Rowe laughed. "I heard you got cursed at the beginning of the summer. Don't you think that if he was going to find a counter-curse, he would have found it already?" Rowe sounded smug and Harry _really_ wanted to throw a few curses his way. Harry nearly started an incantation, stopping himself as he realized what the curse on the tip of his tongue was.

 _I don't practice the Dark Arts_!Harry yelled at himself, refusing to believe he was about to use a Dark curse on anybody.

Rowe was too busy talking to notice.

"We could help you," he continued. "The resources we have . . . some twice as old as Hogwarts, if not more." The boy paused. "So, think about it. Information on your dad for your life. Not such a horrible trade, is it?"

Rowe left then, and Harry watched him go. It was a few minutes later that Harry realized he was alone in the dungeons, but aside from being extremely tired, he didn't feel like he was in any danger, but he knew Snape wouldn't be happy if he found out.

Rushing forward, he managed to make it to Charms before class started, passing by Wyatt and Jake along the way. He would deal with them, later.

Harry slide into a seat as Flitwick started talking, but he realized he couldn't concentrate, despite him knowing this was going to be his hardest class, being a NEWT level class and this was the first Charms class of the year – the first two classes had been canceled because Flitwick had to go somewhere. Still, Flitwick was outlining what he was expecting of everyone at the moment, and all Harry could think about was his almost-attempt at cursing someone.

Harry made it through Charms with something that resembled notes and he waited for Flitwick to walk him to Snape's office, where Harry promptly fell asleep on a large armchair that Snape had brought in specifically for his use.

* * *

Harry sat at the Slytherin table between Wyatt and Jake, who were animatedly chatting around him. After a few minutes of them failing to finish their conversation, Harry huffed.

"Can I switch with one of you? I'm trying to eat," Harry said, although he hadn't been trying too hard to actually eat anything in front of him. It didn't really matter, he supposed. If he didn't manage to eat anything now, Snape would have the elves bring food that wouldn't upset him as much later.

Jake got up to get Harry slide over with a, "Sorry, Tristan," and Harry shrugged. As they got back into their conversation, Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Hermione's nose was in a book, while Ron and Ginny were talking; Ron looked smug and Ginny looked as if Ron had said something particularly insulting. Harry deeply wished he was over there, talking with them. Wyatt and Jake were great, but he had gone through things with his friends in Gryffindor, he realized with a pang that he might never have that with them again, if he couldn't ever tell them he really was Harry.

Suddenly, Ginny got up, flinging her fiery red hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head and started heading past the house tables. The smug look on Ron's face had been wiped off, and Harry wondered what they had been arguing about. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Ginny started past the Slytherin table out the door . . . only she didn't go out the door.

She took a turn and a few seconds later, Harry found Ginny right behind him. Wyatt and Jake stopped talking and stared at her. Harry, not sure what was going on, turned slower, giving his old friend a wary look. As Tristan, Ginny never really seemed interested in talking to him. He figured she never forgave him for speaking against Ravenclaw, but he never really gave it much thought.

"Hello, Tristan," she said in a strangely sweet voice.

"Hi," he answered. "Can I help you?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after dinner? Maybe we can talk a walk to the pitch or something?" Harry wanted to say _something_ was still off in her voice, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what.

Jake barked out a laugh. "Yeah, like Snape will let him out of his sight," he said, then turned to Harry. "Or you'll fall asleep halfway through the walk."

"Jake!" Harry and Wyatt said together, and Harry found himself blushing, although he wasn't sure if it was because of Jake or that Ginny was asking him to take a walk with her.

"What? It's true! It's not exactly _safe_ for him to be so far away from a professor, with the curse and all," he said with a shrug.

Harry took a peek at Ginny out of the corner of his eye and saw her eyes had narrowed. "Oh. My parents had said something about you getting cursed," she said as she looked him over. "We don't have to go for a walk, though. Maybe just talk somewhere?" Harry saw her look over at the Head Table where Snape would be sitting. "Maybe before dinner tomorrow, then? It should be more or less empty in here . . ." Ginny sounded less sure now, and Harry didn't miss the look at Gryffindor table before she looked back at him.

"Sure," Harry said hesitantly. He wasn't sure why Ginny was talking with him _now,_ out of nowhere, but he suspected Ron had something to do with it; he knew his friends well enough to gather that, but he wasn't going to question time with Ginny too much. If he managed to get on well enough with Ginny _and_ Hermione – although he wasn't sure how well off _their_ feeble friendship was at the moment – maybe Ron would come around, too, because he couldn't very well write them as Harry Potter anymore.

"Great!" she said, it sounding more like an agreement than being happy about it, but Harry saw her give a smug look towards the Gryffindor table again before walking off, and Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

Did she just bet Ron she'd talk to him or something? _Geesh_ , Harry thought before going back to staring at his food sullenly.

"Did the _Gryffindor_ just ask you out on a date?" Wyatt asked around Jake, who was just kind of staring at him.

"Not much of a date," Harry said with a shrug. "We'll be sitting here, probably with half the professors at the Head Table making sure I don't pass out or something," he continued bitterly.

"She knew your name," Jake pointed out.

"Yeah," Harry said, not sure how much he could really let on about how Tristan knew the Weasleys. "Dad knows the Weasleys," he said. "She's in fifth year . . ."

They dropped it after that, thankfully, and they went back to their conversation, leaving Harry to wish for better days.

After dinner, Harry followed Snape down to their rooms and, as predicted, there was some food waiting for him, along with his small tray of potions. Harry downed the potions first, hoping whatever he managed to eat would get rid of the potions taste from his mouth.

Snape sat down next to him with a book as Harry forced himself to eat, but Snape didn't seem interested in reading. Instead, he was half staring at Harry. Which reminded him . . .

"Ginny wants to . . . er . . . talk with me in the Great Hall before dinner. Well, she wanted to go for a walk to the pitch, but . . . I didn't think that would be a very good idea . . ."

Snape was giving him a strange look.

"Have you had a girlfriend before?" Snape asked suddenly.

"What? No," Harry said, embarrassed that _Snape_ was asking that. "This . . . probably isn't like that," he continued. "I think Ron bet her she wouldn't talk to me. I saw them arguing before Ginny came over . . ."

Harry felt his face must have been bright red, and the look Snape was giving him made it even worse. What did he think, that him and Ginny were going to start snogging in the Great Hall?

"Rowe found me today," Harry said, trying to change the subject. He did _not_ want to hear about dating from Snape, although he doubted Snape would ever want to talk about dating to _him_ , anyway. "Well, dragged me down a corridor, more like," he mumbled, then wished he hadn't.

" _Dragged_ you down a corridor? And this is the first time I'm _hearing_ about it?" Snape growled, and Harry looked down, shrugging. He had been more worried about what he almost did . . . not that he planned on _ever_ on telling Snape that. A few minutes later, Snape spoke to him in a less harsh – if not obviously irritated – tone. "What happened?"

"We were walking from potions, and I was following everyone else," Harry said quickly. He didn't want Snape to accuse him of purposefully leaving his classmates. "He silenced me and dragged me down the corridor. It wasn't like I could _do_ anything about it." Snape was glaring at him, but wave him on. "He wants information on you."

"Why?" Snape asked.

"I don't know. But . . ." Harry couldn't believe he forgot this, even though he _had_ been feeling pretty awful at the time. "He said they would have books and stuff that could help me . . ."

This got Snape's attention.

"Who?" Harry shrugged.

"His family, I guess? Didn't say, but . . . er . . . what do I do?"

"I'll think about it," Snape snapped, putting down his book. "Are you done eating?"

Harry looked at his bowl of plain rice, turkey and vegetables. _At least it's salted_ , he thought.

"No, keep eating," Snape said absentmindedly. "I want you to finish that bowl. It isn't that much," he continued as he stood. "I'm going to speak with the Headmaster. I'll go through the floo . . . I'll leave the connection open . . ."

Harry stared as Snape inattentively explained where he was going and went through the floo, but after a moment, forced himself to eat his food. This was the first time Snape had left him alone since he got cursed, and he wondered how bad it was that Rowe was wanting information on him. Perhaps there was more to the Ravenclaw story that he had been told?

* * *

"Who are they, Albus?" Severus asked.

"Their intent? No one knows They've managed to keep it secret for centuries, but they haven't been known to cause problems like this in the past. It makes me wonder if it is merely the children, and not their parents."

"It's an established group?" Severus asked.

"I assume so. Or it could simply be an idea . . ." Albus gave a chuckle, and Severus' glare deepened.

"I don't find the _idea_ of Tristan being threatened simply because the students dislike me," Severus said bitterly. "The fact that he's been _dragged_ away from the safety of his classmates is not a laughing matter."

"Of course not, Severus," Albus said. "Are you two getting alone better?"

Severus shifted in his seat. Were they? He hadn't felt the need to outright yell at the boy recently, so he supposed they must be.

"Yes," he said, voice flat. "Do you think they'd have the resources to help?"

"They may," Albus answered, but he didn't sound entirely pleased about it. "But I would think twice about getting them involved. The Intelligentia are rumored to . . . _collect_ knowledge, but I would be wary about what they would ask for in return."

"This is Tristan's life," Severus pointed out. "This is _Harry Potter's_ life," he emphasized, and Albus looked depressed.

"Have all other resources truly gone dry, Severus? If the Intelligentia have information on the curse, it must exist elsewhere. Do not throw your life in with theirs," the Headmaster warned.

Severus travel back through the floo to find Tristan had finished his food. "Would you rather come to the library or go to the Hospital Wing?" Severus asked.

"Er . . ." the boy said sitting up; he looked as if he were about to fall asleep again. "Library," he said. "I could get my homework done." He picked up his bag, and Severus led the way. He deposited Tristan at a table near the Restricted Section, which he saw the boy eyeing, and he entered without a good idea of what he was going to look for.

The girl was there. She noticed him, but plainly ignored him. Severus had forgotten about her, as he hadn't seen her since he yelled at her the first time, but he _had_ talked to Albus about her reluctance to help. And, it seemed, he _should_ really consider going to the non-mandatory staff meetings.

"Hello," he said slowly, and she turned in the ladder slightly to face him, book in hand. Severus tried not to scowl. "I wish to apologize for my behavior towards you the last time we met," he continued. He _did_ feel regret at his actions, but he wasn't particularly comfortable with apologizing, he had to admit. "I wasn't aware of the circumstances which led to you work for Hogwarts, nor had I realized your reluctance to come near me was because of a fear of magic."

She stared at Severus for a moment before continuing to replace the book in her hand and slowly climbing down the ladder. She eyed him cautiously, but nodded before leaving. Severus sighed. Even after Albus explained the situation as best to his knowledge, he still didn't fully understand why she was here and not back with muggles. Surely, they had the ability to recreate an identity for the girl?

Severus told himself to leave it; integration back into the muggle world after being a victim of the Dark Lord's magical experimentation – and being locked in the Malfoy dungeons – would have to be difficult, especially since Albus explained that the life the girl believed to live simply didn't exist. It was as if the Dark Lord had erased her memories and planted false ones, but to what end, Severus simply couldn't fathom.

Severus should his head, getting back on task. He just knew he needed to research _something_ , because too much longer, and he would probably have to send Tristan into St. Mungos' care. He had done his best to convince the healer this hadn't been necessary so far, but a continued loss of weight, and he'd have no choice but to take the risk and hope the Dark Lord hadn't infiltrated the hospital.

At least it seemed he could get through classes without trouble, for the most part, although nearly all his professors reported that he tended to fall asleep. They let him, but Severus hoped it wouldn't put him behind too much in his studies. Thankfully, the boy already had most of these classes.

Severus perused the Dark Arts books without aim. It seemed useless; he and Lucius went through anything remotely relevant during the summer, and all they came up with were references. Wyatt's father's library – Jordan Whittle – had a few old texts which he got a better idea of what type of curse they were dealing with, but nothing that would help him break it down and build a counter-curse. Severus had even snuck into Malfoy Manor to sort through the books there – thankfully, Lucius was able to get him passed the wards; the Dark Lord had been none the wiser of them returning.

Albus didn't want him to deal with those Ravenclaw's parents. Didn't want him to deal with the Intelligentia. But did Severus really have a choice?

Looking back at the entrance, Severus noticed that Tristan had come up to it and was waiting. With a sigh and a flick of a wand, he opened the gate and the boy walked in, albeit looking ashamed.

"I was wondering," the boy said before Severus could ask him what he wanted. He paused, and Severus waved his hand to indicate he should continue. "Well, you know how Dark curses can't be healed by regular magic or means?" Tristan asked, and Severus nodded. "I mean, I guess that's why Mad-Eye Moody has all those scars, anyway? Well, I was wondering, even if . . . even if . . ." The boy took a big breath in. "What if, when you find a counter-curse, I don't heal, any? What if I'm like one big scar and I'll never be able to eat anything or gain weight or stay _awake_?"

Severus looked toward the gate and put up a silencing charm around them. He wasn't sure how much of the Dark Arts the boy had actually studied, but hopefully it would be enough to quell his fears a bit. Not that Severus himself was completely sure, though.

"You indicated previously that you understood that Dark magic can unravel a Dark curse better than a light magic can? And _that_ was why you wished to study the Dark Arts?"

Tristan nodded slowly. "But . . . what if the counter-curse only stops the curse from _killing_ me, but I stay sick, because that came slowly _after_ of the curse, but not _because_ of the curse."

Severus stared at the boy in front of him. He had to admit, he hadn't given that much thought; the hope was that he developed a counter-curse and that would stop the deterioration, and then the potions they were giving him would heal him, and then he could work on the boy's weight and health. The idea that the boy's current state of health could be a scar-like condition hadn't crossed his mind once.

Severus stood in awe of the boy's understanding of an Art he should have never gotten into, and it worried him that the boy seemed to have a natural talent for it.

Much like Severus himself.

Granted, theoretically, Moody's scars _could_ have been healed with a proper cure, but any research on the matter – if it had even come up at St. Mungos – would have been turned away. The hospital did not approve of Dark Arts being practiced in the building . . . even if it healed.

"Then I will focus on unraveling the magic that is preventing you from healing," Severus said slowly, realizing how scared it was making him, how scared he felt that the elusive answer he was chasing might not be an answer at all.

He _needed better resources_.

What would he give up for Lily's son to survive? What would be the price he would have to pay were he to approach the Intelligentia and ask for help, for a favor? What would he risk for the chance that they would give him assistance, or at least access to the resources he needed?

What would he give in return for the life and safety of Tristan Snape?

The answer, Severus realized, wasn't as surprising as he thought it should have been. This was _Harry Potter_ , after all, a boy he had loathed for too many years. But, still, the answer was there, stronger than he imagined it ever could be:

Anything. He would do _anything_ to save the child in front of him.

 **A/N continued:** **So, Harry's old friends _will_ have a place in the main plot of the story eventually, but up until then, how much are you guys interested in actually seeing them in the story as opposed to their implied interactions? At this point, Hermione's forgiven him, Ron wants nothing to do with him, and you'll have to wait to see what Ginny wants with him (and I haven't _actually_ decided how developed a relationship between Ginny and Harry/Tristan would be, so you are free to weigh in on that if you want . . .). Fred and George did the same bail-out they did in the fifth book in this story, but Harry was rather isolated from them at the time, so it wasn't mentioned in-story (and they have been working on their joke shop). Um . . . I think that's it.  
**


	27. Chapter 26 - Stuck

**A/N: Another chapter. Thanks everyone for the reviews! This will _not_ have Ginny/Tristan together, I've decided. Really, though, any romance throughout the series is more for a plot benefit here rather than focusing on the romance, so if reading romance turns you off, no worries. I'd be awful at writing it, so . . . yeah. hehe. Onward!**

 **Chapter 26 - Stuck**

Severus stood outside the gate to the ordinary-looking house. Helita Rowe had agreed to meet him after a lengthy letter about her son's threats to Tristan. He had explained his wish to met with her as a parent, not a teacher; he did not inform Albus of the communication. After Albus' warning of the Intelligentia, he expected the house to be grim, perhaps threatening, but the two-story, light blue house in the muggle neighborhood said nothing but peaceful.

Perhaps, Severus realized, he had spent too much time with Death Eaters.

At the door, Severus knocked and the door opened less than a minutes later.

"Hello," Severus said. "I'm Severus Snape."

"Hi," she said, looking worried. "Please, come in." She led him to a sitting room, where tea was waiting. "I do want to apologize for my son's behavior. I don't . . . I know the children were upset when their friends got expelled, but I never thought they'd go this far. I can assure you, that is _not_ how we have been teaching our children to behave."

Severus gave a curt nod; she didn't appear to be lying. "I appreciate the apology," he said as pleasantly as he could manage.

"But that's not why you're here, is it?" Severus waited. "You know about us," she said flatly. "At least a bit."

"I simply know you may have information that could save my son's life. Beyond that, I am not interested in interfering."

"Yes," she said slowly. "You wish for help with this curse?"

"I wish for access to resources. The curse is old, and I have nothing that will help me create a counter-curse."

"What is the curse?"

" _Penale mortem,"_ he said slowly. Despite not holding his wand, he was hesitant to say the curse out loud. Rowe looked at him curiously.

"I won't ask how he was cursed," she said slowly, but the look to his left arm was unmistakable. "I'll help you. I can't refuse; every child's life is important." Her voice was kind, but flat, and Severus was at a loss that he couldn't tell how trustworthy her offer was.

"What do I owe you?" Severus asked, keeping his voice even and grateful. No need to make it sound like it would be a deal. Rowe didn't answer immediately.

"Do you enjoy working at Hogwarts? You are a Head of House, correct?" she asked, and Severus couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the change in topic.

"It is good work," Severus said, realizing belatedly that he was repeating words his father once said to him. A job, a source of income. It didn't need to be enjoyable.

"So, you plan on staying?"

"Yes," Severus said, and she smiled.

"Good." Her smile didn't abate as she took out a card from her back pocket. She looked at it briefly before handing it over to him. Made of thick parchment, it was plain, with writing in some language, perhaps Roman. "Temporary pass to a library," she said. "Two months. The books may be checked out, but be sure they are returned before that pass expires. If you say 'address' with the card in your hand, it will translate the address. Now," she said, her tone changing, "no one but you will be able to use this pass, and no one can enter the library without a pass, but I must warn you, do not give the address to anyone."

"What do I owe you for this?" Severus asked again. He needed to know.

"Just continue to work at Hogwarts," she said, then paused, perhaps noticing Severus wasn't going to leave without an answer. "Something might come up where we'll need someone there. And you'll owe us."

Severus stared at her, attempting to read her intentions. All he got was . . .

Nothing.

* * *

Harry sat in the library across from Ginny. Snape was the next table over, seated with several books open around him, but he wasn't looking at him; he was staring off into the library. The professor claimed he was close to a counter-curse, but needed to work on the wording of the chant. He had to be sure, because once the spell started, they would have no second chance. Or, at least that was what Snape was claiming, and he had no reason to guess otherwise.

Another couple weeks, he said, which would bring them to the Christmas holiday.

"So, did you make a bet with your brother to talk to me?" Harry asked. He had been trying to ask that for the past couple months, but never managed the courage. They had been going out since Ginny first talked to him, as much as someone could date when he was stuck being with an adult every minutes of the day, but Harry had to admit, he wasn't interested in dating. Actually, he hadn't been interested in much of anything.

Ginny was nice, yeah. Bossy, but she had to be with six older brothers. And hanging out with her was nice, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it, either. And really, Harry would just rather stay in bed and sleep.

Harry couldn't help but notice Ginny had gone bright red.

"No," she said quietly. "No, he bet me I wouldn't go out with a Slytherin. I . . . how did you know there was a bet?"

"I saw you two arguing before you talked to me," he said simply. "I spent enough time with everyone last Christmas, I kinda guessed."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Harry had a feeling Snape was watching them. Snape had started what Harry assumed was The Talk several times, but it never got anywhere.

Thankfully.

"Ginny . . ." Harry said slowly. "Would you . . . er . . . mind if we were just friends? I like you," he said quickly, when it looked like she was going to protest, "but I . . . really don't have the energy to . . . date. I mean, we're really not dating now, are we?"

"No," she answered, then gave him a small, sad smile, and Harry felt bad. "I should go," she said, gathering her book and parchment before leaving. Not bad enough to call her back, though. He sighed and looked back at Snape, who was looking through a book that Miss Kavin brought him. Harry found it strange that she almost never seemed to talk, but she was the only library assistant that helped Snape find certain books. He doubted it was because she knew the library very well – she was only 20, and he had never seen her previous years, and he was told she never went to Hogwarts. Perhaps it was because she barely talked.

Harry kept looking as Snape watched her leave, momentarily forgetting the book in his hand. He smirked to himself, thinking of a way to get back at Snape for his attempts at talking to him about dating and stuff. A small burst of energy – and perhaps a moment of insanity – he leaned as close as he could from the other table and whispered at Snape.

"Why do you keep watching her?" he asked, trying to make his voice teasing. Snape would probably kill him, but he'd have to do it after he saved his life, so hopefully he'd forget by then.

The look Snape gave him confused him; almost like he didn't realize he had been watching her. Snape briefly looked back at Miss Kavin then back down at his book, and Harry tried to get back to his homework.

He was doing horribly at Defense. He got the essays and all that alright, but when it came to defense and offensive spells, Harry was awful. He was doing fine magically in his other classes, so it wasn't him. He thought. Maybe if he ever got more energy, he'd ask Snape about it.

Sighing, Harry forced himself to finish his essay so he could go back to bed.

* * *

Last day of term. It should have brought relief; most of the students were leaving for the holiday, but Severus was not looking forward to the next day. He wished he could put it off.

Tomorrow, Severus would incant the counter-curse. Lucius had already looked it over, they had tested it. It _should_ work. It _did_ work, but that didn't make Severus any less nervous. Looking over at Tristan, who had fallen asleep on the sofa again, he had to admit it would be a relief when he was sure the boy wouldn't be in danger of sudden death. Deciding to skip dinner in the Great Hall, Severus conjured a cup of tea and sat back slowly.

The next day found Severus, Albus, Lucius and Tristan in Severus' quarters. Severus was sitting next to Tristan; the boy hadn't said a word since yesterday, and he was unsure what he could do to reassure him.

"We should start," Lucius said, walking to where Tristan was sitting and kneeling in front of him. "Are you ready?"

Tristan simply stared over the man's shoulder, giving a one-shoulder shrug. Lucius gave the boy's knee a squeeze and stood up. "Severus?" he asked, and he nodded, standing.

"Lay down, Tristan," Severus said, and he took the boy's hand. "This may hurt. We don't have anything to base it off of, but once it starts, it will sever the protections holding it back before it can stop it." Giving a squeeze, he glanced at Albus, who gave him a nod. It was no use putting it off any longer.

Severus started the incantation. He would need to focus on repeating it until it was over.

He hoped it would be quick.

Tristan started squirming. "No," the boy said, before he started groaning. Severus tried to tune it out as the boy's pain became obvious.

Lucius knelt down beside them, grasping Tristan's hand.

Severus continued. It was all he could do to continue when Tristan began to scream.

And then he was quiet. Severus almost stopped his chanting, nearly stumbled, but Albus was beside him. "Continue, Severus, don't stop. Don't stop."

"Tristan?" Lucius said. The man's hand was on the boy's throat. Looking for a pulse.

He continued despite seeing Lucius start to panic. Albus had knelt next to the sofa by now, resting his hand on the boy's forehead.

Why wasn't it working? It never took this long when they they tested it.

"Don't stop, Severus," Albus repeated.

Severus continued despite seeing the horrified look in Lucius' and Albus' eyes.

The boy was dead.

* * *

It was white everywhere; the clothes he had found didn't seem to make a difference in how he felt, though.

Peaceful.

Not warm, not cold. Not hurting. Peaceful.

He tried to tell where he was, because he knew he was _somewhere_. He _knew_ , but it was only a matter of figuring it out. Slowly, he began to recognize the King's Cross station.

Too calm. Too clean. It should have made him uneasy, but it didn't.

"Harry," a voice said behind him, and he turned to find the most frightening and the most wonderful sight he could imagine.

"Mom," he said. "Dad." He felt tears start in his eyes, but that didn't make sense. "Am I dead?"

"Not quite, I think," his dad said. "But close." He looked sad, worried.

Harry ran up to them, giving them both a hug, not wanting to let them go. He could handle dead if this was how it was.

"You have to go back, Harry," his mom said, and he shook his head. He was tired. Going back meant pain and too many potions and starving. Here was better, he decided.

"I don't want to," he mumbled into his mother's shoulder.

"You're so young," she said. "But even if you were ready to pass on, you can't," she said. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" he asked, stepping back, and his eyes followed where his father was pointing. Towards the track where the train would come in. It seemed he could hear the train in the distance. It _was_ calling him. He _was_ ready to pass on. He wasn't sure anymore why he had struggled so hard against this.

But on the tracks was a disgusting thing. A small, black, seething person . . . if you could call it that. It smirked at him. It seemed as if he oozed darkness, bitterness, hatred, and he couldn't help but be scared, even in this wonderful place.

"What is that?" Harry asked, and his parents shook their heads.

"We don't know," his dad said, "but it's not letting you move on."

They watched the thing pace, getting exciting once in awhile and jumping around. Like a dark goblin of muggle fairy tales, ready to trick you out of something you treasured.

Harry knew what it was, he realized with dread. Or, rather, who it was. He could tell by the feeling. Harry was supposed to be dead, and Voldemort wouldn't even let him have _that_ to himself.

"It's Voldemort," Harry whispered, and his mom wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry, Love," she whispered back. "You must go back, though."

"Can't I stay a little longer?" he asked, and his dad shook his head.

"You must go back. We love you, Harry. You've made us so proud."

"My brave, brave boy," Lily said. "We love you."

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed was Snape's voice, chanting. Then the pressure on his forehead and throat.

"Tristan," Malfoy said. "Tristan, breathe. Come on, child, breathe."

Harry tried. He was beginning to notice the burning in his chest; his eyes felt like they were made of rubber, and he couldn't even open them.

Suddenly, he gasped.

"The potions," Malfoy said. "Quick. Severus, continue just in case."

Suddenly, there was a cool feeling on his lips.

"Drink, Tristan," Dumbledore said. "These potions should help heal you."

It hurt to swallow, but he managed. It felt like eternity, but they finally stopped the potions, and Snape's voice quieted. He felt movement, and then someone pick up his hand.

"Can you open your eyes, Tristan?" Snape asked. Harry tried, but he was much too tired. Despite the potions, there was an overbearing ache falling over him. Instead, he squeezed Snape's hand back to let him know he heard and decided to let sleep claim him.

"We should bring him to St. Mungos," Dumbledore said. "I don't know if Poppy would have the expertise needed."

"He's conscious," Snape said. "He squeezed my hand."

"That is something, then," Malfoy answered.

* * *

Severus stood by the bed in St. Mungos. He wouldn't be able to stay still if he sat, so he continued to stand. They said Tristan should wake soon.

Wake, and . . . what?

"Severus," Albus greeted as he walked into the room. "How is he?"

"Well enough. They said it appears that his body is no longer deteriorating, but there were a few things they could not heal with their expertise in healing magic," he sneered. "Especially since the curse did more damage as we countered it. He'll probably have a permanent limp. They're not sure about his mind, nor whether he will be able to eat regularly. And possibly more."

"He died, momentarily," Albus said. "Near half a minute he had no heartbeat, and it took longer than that to get him to start breathing." Severus was sure he had to be imagining the slight pleased sound in the Headmaster's voice.

"They said they managed to fix the deterioration from lack of oxygen," Severus said. "No Dark magic there."

"Good, good. And, perhaps, you'll find a way to counteract the permanent damage from the curse?"

"I hope," Severus said. "I was focused on stopping it, before. Healing it might take longer. Might not even be possible. I'm sure the longer it goes, the harder it will be to fix completely."

"I have complete faith in you, Severus," Albus said, and Severus sighed. The Headmaster looked at him oddly. "On a different note, there are a few issues I need to discuss with you," he said slowly. "A few things I need to pass on before . . ." Albus raised his shriveled hand. Severus narrowed his eyes. "I had originally thought that I would have to pass the information on to Tristan, but now, I feel, that should no longer be necessary. It would be best, I believe, to keep him out of the war for as long as possible."

"Yes," Severus said, agreeing. Not agreeing that Albus had been planning on using Potter for something. The thought of putting Tristan through more danger terrified him more than he would like to admit.

"We'll talk later, when Tristan is back at Hogwarts."

Albus stayed for a few more minutes, then left Severus to continue his standing.

He would wake soon. Any minute, now.

It was half an hour more before he started moving, and Severus pulled the chair up to the bed and sat close.

"Tristan?" he asked, and the boy slowly opened his eyes. Then slowly blinked a few times.

"Glasses?" Tristan asked, then shook his head.

"You don't wear glasses, Tristan," he whispered. Did he forget he could not be Harry Potter?

"Maybe jus' 'cause the lights aren't very bright in here," he mumbled, and Severus looked at the boy, worried.

"It is a comfortable brightness in here," he said slowly. "Are you having trouble with your eyesight?"

Tristan blinked a few more times, moving his eyes from the ceiling to Severus himself.

"It's blurry," he said, sounding distant. "And it really is kinda dark in here. Like, I can see shadows of things and tell what they are, but it's like . . . the only light is moonlight."

Severus sighed. They would need to have his eyes checked. The blurriness would be an easy fix, but the light levels? Severus heard that wizarding lenses could be adjust to reduce the light going through without darkening them; could they do the reverse, increase the amount of light?

"How do you feel otherwise?"

The boy didn't answer immediately. "My leg kinda hurts," he said, still sounding half asleep. At least he didn't seem to have any trouble talking. "And my stomach. And I'm really tired, but . . . other than that, I think I feel okay. Or, at least, better than I remember."

Severus was relieved to hear the surprise in the boy's voice. "The healers say that the deterioration has stopped," he said. "You should not get worse, so we can focus on improvement."

"That's good," the boy said. "Can I go back to sleep?"

"Do you not want to eat?" Severus asked. "There is food here for you . . ." Tristan shook his head. Severus decided to ask the healers for nutrition potions for the time being. His supply was still back at Hogwarts. "Go to sleep. I'll be here."

* * *

Harry had been awake for two hours when the eye wizard arrive. Two hours had been an improvement over the last day, and Harry was grateful he still didn't feel the need to sleep.

Oddly enough, he was also grateful that Snape hadn't left him alone. It was perhaps more because Harry was nervous someone would attack him or something when he wasn't seeing all that great, but it was still good.

He was relieved that, since the healers weren't able to heal his eyes with magic – although Snape said he'd try to do it the right way – they would be able to charm the glass to make everything appear brighter. It wasn't perfect, but at least it was more like he was in a dark room full of lit candles instead of outside at night under the full moon.

"Now, don't let anyone else put these on," the eye wizard said. "They only work if they are sitting on your face, but if someone who is not hard of seeing puts them on, it would be bright enough to damage their eyesight. Easily fixed, of course, but not a fun experience."

Harry nodded as they handed him a mirror. He had chosen a rectangle-ish shape, frames larger than he normally would have liked, but he saw better than with the smaller ones. He decided it made him look like a scientist. Or a teacher. Staring at himself for a moment, Harry decided he kind of liked the look. When he looked at Snape, the man just stared at him, so he ignored him. The eye wizard gave him a smile, though.

It was a few hours later – and he was still awake – that Healer Jacob came.

"Hello, kid," he said. "Heard you're doing better?"

"I guess," Harry said.

"Well, I'm going to want you to try to eat something soon," he continued. "We really can't have you losing any more weight, but first, I'd like to get you out of bed and moving around. How's your leg?"

Harry's right leg still hurt, and he told Healer Jacob as much, keeping quiet about how he tried to get out of bed earlier, but his legs didn't really want to support him. That was hours ago, anyway.

Harry slowly moved to the side of the bed, Jacob on one side of him, Snape on the other, and lowered his feet to the floor. When he slid off the bed completely, he nearly collapsed to the floor again, but Snape caught him by the arms, expecting it.

"It was the same earlier," Snape said, and Harry gave him a glare.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Jacob said.

"It's not a problem that I can't stand?" Harry asked incredulously.

"You have some muscle deterioration, but that's the thing about muscle; it's very good at rebuilding itself. Unlike your eyes or the pain in your leg, there's a non-magic fix that won't be hindered by the dark magic preventing your healing. You just need to build the muscles in your legs."

"You're sure?" Snape asked.

"Pretty sure," Healer Jacob said. "Now, let's see if you can keep any food down."


	28. Chapter 27 - Sirius and Wands

**A/N: Hello y'all! Thanks everyone for the reviews again! Not the longest of chapters, here, but next chapter jumps time a bit, so I felt this was a good place to stop. Starting bringing in people who been more in the background up until now. Felt it about time. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 27 – Sirius and Wands**

A witch appeared in the doorway, and Harry looked up from his book.

"You have a visitor," she said.

"Who?" Snape asked, but before she could answer, Lupin was behind her. "No," Snape said sharply, but too late. The lady had left, and Lupin and Snuffles had entered the room, Lupin closing the door. It looked like he had it warded before Snape managed to stand up.

Sirius changed back to human, wand pointed at Snape.

"Sirius, you _promised!_ " Lupin said in a harsh tone he had never heard from his old professor.

"I'll _kill_ you, Snape," Sirius hissed. Thankfully, he didn't have his wand in his hand.

"Sirius, stop!" Harry yelled, feeling trapped; two days hadn't been long enough to be able to walk again, and he knew he needed to get between his godfather and Snape.

Sirius didn't listen.

"My godson almost _died_ and you didn't have the sense to _notify_ me beforehand?"

"We didn't need an audience," Snape snapped. "And he's very much _alive_. Not that _you_ were any help."

Sirius lunged for Snape, but Lupin managed to grab the back of his robes and pull him back. "Sirius," Lupin said warningly. "You wanted to come to visit _Tristan_ , remember?" Sirius stopped trying to attack Snape, but Harry was on his guard.

He _was_ glad to see Sirius, even with him and Snape fighting. He'd come about every couple of weeks as Snuffles during the term, but Snape never let him stay long. He was even glad to see Lupin, even though he must be confused as to why Sirius wanted to visit Snape's kid.

Unless he _knew_?

After a few minutes, Sirius seemed to calm down and he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed.

"How are you doing, kid?" Sirius asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Better," Harry said forcibly. "I really am."

"You have glasses again."

"Yeah," he answered. "I can barely see at all without them, now." Truth be told, he had some trouble seeing _with_ them, too, but he didn't really want to bother them with that right now, so he just did a quick overview with them on how he was doing. After a minute, he realized he didn't want to talk about any of it, so he steered the conversation to quidditch and things, trying to ignore that Snape was sitting in his chair glowering at his visitors. Other than Dumbledore, they _had_ been his only visitors the last couple days. He doubted his friends even knew he was _in_ the hospital.

"Time to leave," Snape said sharply about half an hour later, and Sirius looked as if he was about to kill him again.

"Perhaps," Lupin said, "now that Tristan is doing better, we could all have tea sometime. Or perhaps even dinner," he continued slowly, although his voice was amiable. "I think it would do us all some good, yes? Sirius has been working on some variations of a pain potion . . . perhaps that is something you two could talk about?"

Harry almost laughed at the way both Snape and Sirius turned to look at Lupin, and he wanted to point out that he doubted they'd be able to sit at a dinner table without fighting, much less hold a conversation about potions.

"It would be best for Tristan if you two _tried_ to get along, at least, wouldn't it?" he continued.

"Good bye, kid," Sirius said, ignoring Snape and Lupin. "I'll come and visit as soon as I can, alright?"

"Bye, Sirius," Harry answered, not happy that Snape was making him leave to soon. Perhaps, if Snape would leave during the visits, he'd feel better when the meetings were so short. The professor, as always, refused to leave him alone with Sirius and he couldn't even owl him so he could talk more privately . . . Perhaps, Harry thought, he could ask Snape if he could get a letter to Sirius. Harry sneaked a look at Snape, who had gone back to reading his magazine.

Harry shook his head bitterly. Snape wouldn't deliver any message to Sirius. He resolved to pretend Snape didn't exist for the rest of the day. He deserved that, at least.

"Severus?" Albus asked.

"Horcruxes?" Severus asked after a moment.

"You've heard of them?"

"Barely," he answered. "I've read mentioned of them in my research for Tristan, but hadn't considered the information of any use. To split one's soul . . ."

"Yes," Albus said.

"How many?"

"Four left, perhaps. I do believe the diary Harry stabbed to end the horror of the Chamber of Secrets was one of them, as with the ring." The ring that was destroying the Headmaster, he thought. Severus had been in the Dark Lord's presence long enough to know that he truly would be capable of such a horror.

"Why would you have told this to Tristan instead of me?" Severus asked slowly, remembering the conversation earlier. Albus didn't answer immediately; instead his face was dark and sad.

"I believe he was one himself."

It took more than the rest of his tea to process that.

"Potter is a horcrux?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Was. He was dead. I don't believe the horcrux would have survived that. Its vessel was no longer whole."

Something still didn't fit.

"You are sure."

"Oh, yes," Albus said confidently. "He _could not_ have died if the horcrux still possessed him."

"The curse . . ." Severus prompted.

"Yes, the curse must have been enough to kill it. A Dark killing curse. Not _the_ Killing Curse, of course, but one much darker. So, there is no need to involve Tristan in any matter of the war, which I can tell you are pleased about."

"Yes," Severus said. "But the Dark Lord must still have his eyes on Harry Potter. He wouldn't have faked his death if he didn't . . ."

"I'm still not fully convinced of his reasons," the Headmaster said. "But, perhaps, if we managed to convince him he _is_ dead, it may play with his plans."

"What do you think his plans are?" he asked, but Albus shook his head.

"It is not the time, Severus," he told him.

"Do you not trust me?" Severus asked, feeling once again angry at the lack of information that man trusted him with.

"Severus, you know that is not the reason," Albus said sharply. "I have given you more information on the secrets of this war than I have given any one other person, but I have reasons for not passing on _all_ of my knowledge."

"Of course," Severus answered bitterly. "But as it involves the boy I am now calling my _son_ , perhaps it is information I need to know?"

"No, it is _not_. Not yet. I will let you know more when I have something more than a guess."

"And there is nothing I can do to help?"

"Not at the moment. I will give you more information on the horcruxes as I find out more about them. I foresee myself needing aid in the future." Albus paused. "I will not leave you without the resources you need to continue this war, Severus. I can promise you that. I _am_ glad you and Tristan are getting along better."

Severus didn't answer immediately. "I may . . ." The boy was insufferable. "He is ungrateful, rude . . . I give my _life_ to saving his, and he still acts as if I am the enemy."

"He is a teenager," Albus said sadly. "It will pass. Perhaps . . . he still doesn't feel he can trust you."

"I continue to save and protect him," he snapped. "What other proof does he need?"

"An olive branch, perhaps," Albus said. "Proof that you care about more than simply keeping him alive."

"I keep him entertain, inquire about his day, which he almost never responds to. I have done as you _insisted_ I do and be _kind_ to him. What else would I do?"

"I spoke with Remus earlier this week," Albus said, and Severus abruptly put down his cup.

"And what does _he_ have to do with this conversation?"

"I know he knows the truth. He has been good not to mention it, even in private. And _he_ knows that Sirius would like more time to get to know his godson."

"I _will not_ have him in my life."

"So you will deny your son the only other family he has left? Deny him access to someone he could rely on if something were to happen to you? Because if something _were_ to happen to you, he _should_ go go Sirius, but that could not reasonably be done if you two are so completely enamored against each other."

Severus didn't answer. He couldn't. Finishing his tea in silence, he excused himself minutes later.

Severus found he didn't want to go back to his rooms. The boy was there – hopefully – but he wasn't so blind that he didn't know Tristan was probably enjoying his time alone. And truly, he was glad to be away from the boy himself, without having to worry if the adult he left in charge of him would be competent enough were something to go wrong.

The library was quiet, and he wandered. There were four students staying at Hogwarts this holiday in addition to Tristan, and didn't think any of them would spend their time holed up in the library, but he made a show of stalking the rows of shelves if for nothing but wasting time to give him time to think.

"Hello, Severus," a voice said behind him, and Severus turned around. Danielle Kavin was sitting at a table, _Theory of Charms_ laying in front of her.

"Still studying magic?" Severus asked.

"What else am I supposed to do?" she asked with a sigh. Severus sat down across from her.

"Do you wish you could go back? To the muggle world?"

"I'm not sure what I want," she said as she pushed the book away, slamming it closed. "I don't think I could _handle_ going back. Searching for a job, paying rent. Feels like it'd be too real."

"This isn't real?" Severus asked after a moment.

"Real enough, I guess. I do have a good job here I spend my day sorting books and helping young wizards learn magic I'll never be able to do and spend my nights reading books about wizards having adventures," she said bitterly. "But it's no matter. Better than where I thought I would be last year."

"I do thank you," he said. "For help with grading those essays this term. It really did free up some time."

"Just followed a grading rubric," she sighed. "Learned more about magic that way than with these bloody books."

Severus gave a small laugh.

"So, Tristan is alright?"

"He is better," Severus said simply. "There is still much to do."

"I'm still willing to help. I've nothing else to do, really."

"Thank you," Severus said as he realized he was staring at her again. It was times like these he wished Tristan had never said anything. "Perhaps . . . you would like to have dinner with me in Hogsmede sometime, if you are looking for something to do?" Severus found himself saying, unable to stop once he started.

"I . . . I don't leave the castle," she stuttered, blushing. "I . . . I _can't_."

"I see," Severus said slowly, berating himself for saying anything to begin with. _She's twenty_ , a voice said to him. _She's barely older than your students!_

They sat in the silence library for a few moments before Severus started to stand to excuse himself.

"Perhaps something here?" Danielle asked suddenly. "I'm sure the house elves wouldn't mind setting something up. They do wish to help. A bit too much, sometimes . . ."

Severus stared at her, wondering if, perhaps, he had been dreaming the day. It had seemed linear and sensible up until this point, but perhaps dreams sometimes seemed that way.

"That . . . could be arranged," Severus answered slowly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on Tristan."

Danielle nodded and Severus left.

* * *

Harry sat across from Snape for dinner a few days before term started. It has been a couple of weeks since he got back from St. Mungos and he could walk a fair bit, now, but his leg hurt more than ever. At least before, the potions worked well enough he only limped every other day; now, he took a pain potion that dulled the pain, but that was it. Thankfully, that really was the worst of the pain now days.

"How is your leg?" Snape asked, and Harry shrugged. "It is still hurting?"

"Yeah."

They continued eating in silence, and it wasn't until Harry had nearly finished his food that Snape spoke again.

"Perhaps a cane would aid in your walking," he said, and Harry felt himself turn red. A _cane_. Like he was some old man. Even _Dumbledore_ didn't walk with a cane and he was over a hundred. Probably. "Your legs are stronger, but you have trouble walking to your bedroom. A cane would lessen the pressure on your leg, hopefully causing less pain. At least try it." Harry nodded.

"Do you have everything prepared for the new term?" Snape asked.

"Almost," Harry said. "I put my Charms book somewhere, though . . ."

"It's in my room," Snape said, then finished his tea. "Tristan, I do want to talk to you about your Defense scores," he continued. "Your essays are done well enough, but your wand-work has been poor. I don't believe you've been completely successful at any of the defensive or offensive spells this term. Has that been usual in the past?"

Harry felt himself blush again. _Why is he even bringing this up?_ Harry wondered.

"No," he said slowly. "I _told_ you, I haven't had enough last year and . . . well, I don't know, I forgot stuff, I guess."

"That makes no sense," Snape said shortly. "The essence of spellwork in Defense is similar to that of Charms, although there are differences. Why would you be doing well in Charms, but can't cast a proper shield."

"Is _is_ different. It _feels_ different," Harry argued. "And I used to do _better_ at Defense than Charms, so I know that's not fully true."

Snape stared at him for a minutes, and Harry pushed his plate away. He didn't want to talk about this.

"Perhaps it is your wand," Snape said after awhile. "Some wands are known to have affinities for certain fields of magic work, but it usually doesn't have that much of an effect . . ."

Suddenly, Snape stood and went to his bedroom. Harry stayed where he was and re-emerged a few minutes later with his original wand. Harry's breath caught. He didn't realize he had missed it.

Snape handed it to him, and the familiar feel was back. It didn't necessarily feel _better_ than his current wand. Honestly, if he had to choose between the two, he didn't think he could, but it did have a different feel. A _lighter_ feel.

"Try a short-burst shield. You've been having the most trouble with that one."

Harry did, and, amazingly, the shield appeared strong for ten seconds. Stronger than what was usual for that particular shield. Snape nodded, but it appeared absentminded.

"Tristan," Snape said, talking back his phoenix-feather wand. "Did you have much practice of Light Defense and Offensive spells after you first got your new wand, or did you start with the Dark Arts before trying the Light?"

Harry shifted. This was the first time Snape brought up his Dark Arts experimentation since he first found out. And he didn't want Snape to find out that he was still working on the theory when Snape would let him stay in his room. It was from his personal notes, and he never figured Snape would go through them if he didn't act suspicious. Besides, he always made sure he had the notes from another one of his classes there just in case Snape snuck up on him.

"I don't remember," Harry said honestly. "Umbridge never let us practice, so I suppose it's possible I started with Dark . . . why would that matter?"

"Some wands tend toward the interest of their owners. Or it may simply be the nature of your wand's core. I'm told it was very finicky to make."

"What do I do?" Harry asked, staring at the wand that has been his for over a year now.

"What you have been doing. Hopefully, if you practice well enough, the difficultly with your wand will not matter."

"Right," Harry said slowly.

"Your essay scores will allow you a decent grade in the class, even if you don't manage the spells very well. You have very little to worry about."

"Right," Harry repeated.

* * *

Severus watched Tristan leave, limping. He _would_ need to get him a cane. Perhaps a simple one the boy could transfigure to something he'd like.

He wasn't sure what to do about the pain, though. He had made several adjustments to the pain potion he'd been giving Tristan, but none of them worked any better than the other because he wasn't sure what was _causing_ the pain to begin with.

He vaguely remembered Lupin saying something about black working on variations of pain potions. He doubted they'd have any merit – he honestly didn't know how well the mutt knew potions – but _perhaps_ if he stumbled upon something he hadn't thought of . . .

Severus felt like growling to himself; this decision _would_ mean having a conversation with Black, and that was _not_ something he felt ready to do. If he could just find the cause of pain, he could make a potion to help it.

He would talk to Black as a _last_ resort.

If he talked to the dog at all. Because a _dog_ was really all he was, in Severus' mind.


	29. Chapter 28 - Revelations

**A/N: Ahhh! Okay, waaay to long for an update, I think, but I was sick for over a week this time . . . *sigh* Hope you guys like the chapter! As long as I don't get sick again, there shouldn't be a long wait like this again. There's a long way to go in this story, and I don't want the writing of it to go on forever . . . hehe. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 28 – Revelations**

Severus stood in the middle of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, unsure of where to look for Black next.

Still not convinced he actually _needed_ to talk to Black.

Shaking his head, he cursed himself and turned toward the door to find Molly in the doorway.

"Severus! What brings you here?"

"There has been a . . . development," Severus said slowly. "Where is Black?"

"Haven't seen him recently. Probably with Buckbeak or in the library," Molly answered. "Or he snuck out as a dog. He was complaining about how he was stuck inside on such a beautiful April day. Honestly, I know he doesn't leave often, but he _does_ get out," she said, shaking his head.

Severus left as Molly started working in the kitchen, deciding to try the library first, taking his time walking up the stairs, thinking about what to say to Black. He still wasn't sure when he pushed the door open to find Black bottling something from a cauldron, freezing when he looked up to find Severus in the doorway. They stood that way for a moment, perhaps something in Severus' demeanor suggesting he was there with a purpose.

"Is Tristan alright?" Black asked, slight panic in his voice.

"Tristan is as well as he was last you saw him," Snape said as neutral as he could. Because, really, he _knew_ he needed Black. For this, at least.

"Good," Sirius said with a sigh. "I think I've found a solution to his leg, though. Not permanent, but a way to dull the pain . . . if you could look it over . . . what?" Black said after he looked at Severus. "I _told_ you I was-"

"I'm not here to talk potions," Snape said sharply, unable to keep his voice steady. He realized he should have slept before submitting himself to this conversation, and he closed the door, warding it. Before he could decide otherwise, he pulled the locket from his robes and threw it at Black, who caught it rather easy.

"What's this?"

"Open it," he spat, and the man did. It was mere moments later that that man's eyes widened.

"Regulus," Sirius said, pain obvious in his voice. "He . . . Merlin, he . . ." Black sat abruptly in the chair behind him, nearly missing his mark.

"We need to find the locket," Severus said. "The _original_ locket."

Black looked up from the note in his hand. "There was a locket here somewhere . . . we could never open it . . . I honestly don't know where it's gone to, though." He paused. "What's important enough about a locket that Regulus would risk his life for?" Black mumbled, shaking his head.

"I'm to take you to see Albus," Severus said shortly. "He is not well enough to make the trip here."

Black would have looked more worried had he been with Albus for the past day.

* * *

" _Sorry, no admittance," Voldemort told him._

" _You're not sorry," Harry said. "But you will be." The train sped by faster than he ever seen it go before. If it were slower, he knew he could grab and hold on to get away._

 _Or was it to move on? Harry could never remember._

 _Harry looked at Voldemort, who seemed to be growing larger, his face growing more demon-ish the longer he looked. Making his decision, Harry threw himself at the moving train and found himself in a graveyard of floating glass balls. He knew he was on the other side of the door, knew it was where he meant to go. The answers were in that graveyard._

 _He walked cautiously, jumping at the sporadic explosions of glass balls until finally there was just one glowing one in front of him. It was hovering above a gravestone, but no matter how hard Harry focused, he couldn't see the name on it._

 _Turning around at a noise behind him, Harry saw the earth start to shift until he could see the bodies buried there, coming up to the surface, pale and bleeding. Suddenly, they started to move awkwardly, and he heard bones cracking as they managing to stand._

 _And walk toward him. Taking a few steps back, Harry found himself falling backwards, landing hard on his back. Snape was suddenly crouched over him, Sirius and Lucius Malfoy standing next to him._

" _No, not dead yet. No use. We'll have to just bury him and hope for the best. It's not normal to not die."_

" _We'll have to pretend he's dead," Sirius said, and Harry tried to stand, but Voldemort was holding him down, and Harry turned his head away from the dark lord, all the way to Snape, and he saw he was lying on a pile of bodies._

 _Not just any bodies, he realized, screaming. They were_ him _, half decayed, struggling to stand, but there wasn't enough of him anywhere to manage._

" _Well, bury him already," Malfoy said, and they all hovered out of the hole with a flick of their wands. Another swish, and dirt started pouring down on him like dry rain, but Harry still couldn't move to stand and get out of the hole before he was fully covered._

 _The dirt kept falling and falling . . ._

Harry woke with a deep breath. He stilled himself, holding his breath to see if he woke his dorm mates. When it seemed everyone was still sleeping, Harry grabbed for his wand, casting _lumos_ before picking up the notebook he'd be writing his dreams in and wrote down as much as he could remember. He didn't know what good it would do, but Sirius suggested it since he kept having such awful dreams.

With a look around the room, Harry made his decision. Putting on his slippers and dressing gown, Harry snuck as quietly as he could out of the dorm room, slipping through the common room and out towards Snape's rooms without waking anyone, wishing more than anything he had his invisibility cloak. It wasn't far to go, so he hoping luck was on his side and he wouldn't run into Filch.

And hopefully Snape wouldn't give him a detention for being out way past curfew. It was a little after midnight, and hopefully Snape would still be up.

The lights were still lit when Harry arrived, but Harry didn't see Snape. Harry sighed as he sat on the sofa. Since he'd been better, Snape opted to put the doors back on, which was great for the bathroom, but Snape made it _very_ clear that if his bedroom door was closed, Harry was _not_ to enter, which Harry thought was highly hypocritical, as Snape would let himself into _Harry's_ room if the door was closed. Sure, he'd knock first, but he never gave Harry an option to refuse him entry. Not that Snape's door was was usually an issue; Snape never seemed to close it.

Except _now_ , when he finally got the courage to tell Snape about his dreams and the strange conversation with his parents. A voice in the back of Harry's head told him he should have told Snape five months ago when it happened, and he did _try._ He never could, though.

And, now he wanted to try _again_ , but Snape had to have his stupid door closed. Putting the notebook down next to him, Harry crossed his arms and leaned back, deciding to wait. He'd probably lose his nerve by then, but since Harry was so late, Snape would probably press him.

Harry's eyes weren't closed long enough to fall back to sleep when he heard Snape's door open and heard the most unexpected sound.

"I really must get up early tomorrow," Ms. Kavin said. "Tea tomorrow?"

Snape didn't answer the question, but Harry's back was to him; he might have nodded. "Do you need me to escort you to your rooms?"

"No, I'll make it. I really have gotten better at not getting lost . . ."

"It helps that you've been making an effort to leave the area near the library," Snape said dryly.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh, and Harry slid further down into the couch when he realized the sounds coming from behind him were the two adults kissing, finding himself _really_ glad at how high the sofa's back was; he wasn't tall enough for his head to show, especially if he was slouched. He felt himself get really, _really_ warm when he realized why Snape didn't want Harry going into his room when the door was closed. Harry's embarrassment didn't wane one bit as Snape let Ms. Kavin out, closing the door behind him. All Snape had to do was turn around, and he'd see Harry . . .

Harry was sure his face was bright red. Just imagining Snape with anyone in _that way_ . . .

"What are you doing here?" Snape asked harshly and Harry looked at him out of the corner of his eye, unable to answer. After a moment, Snape sighed and sat down next to him. "Did something happen?" he asked, his tone soften slightly.

Harry shook his head, but answered, "Another nightmare."

"Sit up," Snape said as he looked Harry over. "A vision?"

"No . . . I . . ." Harry fingered the notebook Snape had nearly sat on. Snape picked it up and flipped through it. Harry was annoyed the man didn't ask to look at it beforehand, but Harry didn't stop him. Snape flipped through the pages slower and slower, and Harry knew he was reading bits of the dreams.

"Are you having nightmares every night?" Snape asked, flipping to the beginning of the notebook. Harry knew it was dated sometime in January. Sirius had suggested the notebook after Harry had mentioned he was so tired during class because he wasn't sleeping well because of bad dreams. A week into classes.

"I don't sleep well," Harry mumbled, and Snape looked at him darkly.

"I hadn't been aware you had been keeping your nightmares from me," Snape said slowly, something strange in his voice.

"I . . . I haven't been _trying_ to keep them from you," Harry said. "I just . . . don't want to talk about them."

 _I don't want to tell you I have Voldemort in me_ , Harry thought to himself, and he knew he couldn't tell Snape more than the dreams. Snape would think that Voldemort was influencing his wish to learn the Dark Arts and would probably guess that he _still_ was studying them and would look through his school notes and would find everything . . .

Snape had gone back to reading some of the dreams, and Harry closed his eyes and found himself thinking about Snape and Ms. Kavin again.

Ugh.

Harry felt Snape move in front of him and Harry opened his eyes again. Snape was kneeling in front of him, looking worried. Snape didn't often have the expression on his face, and it always made Harry uncomfortable. Like someone shouldn't be feeling that way about him.

"Tristan, you know I won't leave you again?" Snape asked, and Harry stared back at him. Did he? He wasn't dying anymore, and Snape probably didn't have much of a reason to stay, did he? Snape sighed and took Harry's hands, unfolding his arms against his will. Harry let him, though.

"Why not?" Harry asked, regretting the question immediately. He didn't want to give Snape a reminder that he _could_ leave and Harry wouldn't die.

Because . . . well, Harry couldn't die, anyway, could he? Harry had _wanted_ to die, to go with his parents and be free of the pain and problems, but he couldn't even get _that_.

Snape didn't answer at first, just stared back at him, before the man squeezed his hands.

"I won't leave you again," Snape said forcibly before standing and sitting back down next to Harry, the journal in hand again. Flipping through a few pages, Snape didn't look back at Harry right away.

"Tristan, are you . . ." Snape trailed off. "Have you . . ." Harry looked at Snape, refusing to look at him directly. Snape wasn't at a loss for words very often, and Harry was sure he wasn't going to like the question Snape was about to ask. "Do you think about dying?" Snape paused, but Harry found he couldn't answer. He tried to say _yes_ , but his mouth wouldn't open. "Have you given thought to . . . killing yourself?"

"What?" Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper, wishing he hadn't brought his dream notebook. How did Snape get that from his dreams? But Harry knew. If someone wasn't trying to kill him in his dreams, he _was_ trying to kill himself. It failed every time. "I . . . I haven't tried to . . ." Harry managed to get out. "I swear."

"I'm not accusing you, Tristan," Snape said quietly. "It's not lost on me how stressful it would be, being in pain every day, being restricted to such few foods . . . being so segregated from your old friends and . . ." Snape continued slowly, stopping. "Your godfather has a pain brew for you to try," Snape continued, his voice a bit stronger. "He has a few theories as to why your leg continues to hurt. It might not work, but the brew itself is competent. I have . . ." Snape looked toward the table, where a bag was hanging off one of the chairs. "I'll be busy most of tomorrow; the Headmaster has ask for help with something, and Saturday is the best day for it, but I'll ask Black to stop by with the potion. I trust you'll stay here until he comes?"

Harry stared at Snape, wondering if heard correctly. "You're letting Sirius come without you here?" Harry dared to ask.

"Now that I no longer have to worry about you dropping dead, I suppose it's about time to leave you alone with him," Snape said sharply, which didn't make much sense in a way of an explanation, but Harry wasn't going to point that out and have Snape change his mind.

"I'll stay here," Harry answered quickly, the prospect of Sirius coming overcoming the horrible feeling of the dream. Snape was observing him carefully.

"Or, perhaps I could bring you to headquarters for the holiday," Snape said slowly, and Harry's prospect for the week was looking even better. "Molly will stop by once in awhile, but Black is usually alone, and I could leave you with him while I finish up my work . . ."

"Really?" Harry asked hesitantly, trying to not let too much hope seep into his voice. "It wouldn't look strange that Sirius is watching me?"

"We've been working on a project together, this week," Snape answered. "It would not look out of place."

Harry smiled at Snape and he found himself hugging the . . . his father before he realized he was doing it.

"Please," Harry said, and Snape nodded.

"I will speak with Black tomorrow morning," Snape said, and Harry felt he couldn't wait. "Tristan?" Snape asked, his voice sounding worried again. "You know you can talk with me any time?" Snape brushed Harry's hair out of his face. "I worry about you." Harry looked questioningly at his professor, who was seeming incredibly uncomfortable. "You've gone through so much pain, I know it can't be easy. Please . . . let me know if you need anything? Or if you feel you want to . . . hurt yourself."

Harry shook his head. "I won't hurt myself," he said honestly. It wouldn't do him much good. Snape's hand rested on his shoulder, and Harry decided they needed to change the subject. "Are you and Ms. Kavin . . . _dating_?" he asked, and Snape's expression changed to scolding.

"Yes," he said after a few moments. "But that is not something to gossip with your friends about," he said sternly. "You are to keep it to yourself." Harry nodded, leaning against Snape, suddenly feeling as tired as he should be. He hoped Snape wouldn't send him back to his dorm, but Snape didn't say anything as he felt himself start to drift off.

* * *

Severus found himself in the kitchen of Grimmauld place for the fourth time that week, this time joined by a peculiar feeling that insanity might have finally caught up with Black.

Black growled as he threw a flour container to the floor with a loud crash, then noticed Severus standing in the doorway.

"The locket isn't _anywhere_ ," he barked before taking a deep breath and casting a few charms to clean the kitchen. Severus stood, torn between the need to find that locket and wanting to talk to Black about Tristan.

Tristan won out.

"Can we talk?" Severus managed to ask, his voice sounding harsher than he intended. Black looked at him with annoyed expectation. "Somewhere where we won't be overheard?" he emphasized, and Black nodded. When they moved to one of the bedrooms, Severus warded the door before turning to face Black. It was several minutes of them staring at each other before Severus convinced himself to start the conversation. Black beat him to it, though.

"Is Harry okay?" he asked.

" _Tristan_ could be better," Severus snapped.

"Damn it, Snape!" Black yelled. "We're behind warded doors! You do realize this is _Harry_ we're talking about, right? What are you going to do when it's safe for him to be Harry again, when everyone can know the truth about what happened? Are you just going to _dump_ him, like you don't care? Because you can't tell me you don't. He's the one damn thing we can every agree on!"

"I _know_ that," Severus hissed, not wanting to think about any of that. "And I _do_ want to get back before _Tristan_ wakes up."

"Is he _alright?_ " Black asked forcefully, and Severus took a moment to calm himself. He didn't want to think about how far he was willing to go to make sure Tristan _was_ alright. Especially since it meant going as far as choosing to spend time with Black.

"I don't know," Severus finally answered. "Nothing has changed, but . . . has he told you about his nightmares recently?"

Black shook his head. "He told me he was _having_ them, but wouldn't talk about them. I told him to write them down, at least . . ."

"He has been," Severus told him. "And I saw the notebook for the first time last night . . . he's been spending his nights in the dorms, so I wasn't even aware he was _having_ them, still. They're . . . all he dreams about is death and betrayal."

"You read it?" the man asked, half accusative, half worried.

"He brought it to me," he snapped. "After he went to sleep, I read them in more detail. They usually involve one of us trying to kill him or him trying to kill himself and failing. I asked him if he _did_ want to kill himself. I wasn't sure what to make of them."

"What did he say?" Black asked, sounding as if he were having trouble finding his voice.

"He said he hasn't tried, that he wouldn't try to hurt himself, but -"

"Well, that's good, right? They're just dreams . . . he's nearly died so many times, it's no wonder he's dreaming of dying."

"He's dreaming of _not_ dying, which I find peculiar," Severus pointed out. "Buried alive, decaying . . . but that's another point. I've had suicidal students in past years . . . they don't admit to it, never. That's what I came here to talk to you about. It's Easter break this week; I wish to bring him here. I know he would like to spend more time with you. If you could assess how he's faring. I do believe him when he says he won't hurt himself, but I've spend so much time with him, I might be missing something."

"You want me to make sure my godson isn't suicidal?" Black asked accusingly. "Why _would_ he be, even? You haven't been harassing him?"

"No," Severus spat. "I haven't. But in case you haven't noticed, he has a lot of reason to be . . . _depressed_ , on top of being in pain all the time."

"Did you give him the potion, yet? Has it worked?"

"I haven't," Severus said, stopping Black from yelling at him. "He fell asleep before I could give it to him last night." Which was mostly true. Black didn't need to know he was going to use it as an excuse to allow Black to visit Tristan before settling on the week-long visit. A voice in the back of Severus' head told him he didn't need a scheme to allow Tristan to visit his godfather.

He promptly told the voice to shut it.

"When are you going to bring him?"

"This afternoon," Severus told him. "Just . . . try to remember what you can about that locket."

"What are we going to do with the fake one?"

Severus gave the man a look. "Throw it out, for all I care," he said. "Albus said it was nothing important."

* * *

"So, Harry," Sirius said.

"Tristan," Harry answered, but he wasn't sure why his voice sounded so forceful. "Don't call me Harry."

"Tristan," Sirius said slowly. "Is Snape forcing you to . . . forget about your past?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Because he shouldn't be doing that," his godfather said, angry. "I _knew_ it. I _knew_ he-"

"Sirius!" Harry nearly shouted. "No, it's just _easier_ to be called Tristan. I don't know how long Harry Potter has to stay dead and . . ." Harry shook his head. He almost said he wasn't sure if he _did_ want to go back to being Harry Potter. Sure, he'd like to tell his Gryffindor friends as soon as he could that he was alive, but . . .

Harry stopped himself from thinking along that line. As soon as it was possible, Snape would probably not want anything to do with him anyway.

"Oh," Sirius said. "If you're sure . . ."

"I am. I've been Tristan for nearly two years now. It _is_ who I am, even if I wasn't always." Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," Sirius mumbled. "I still don't like that git having control over your life, even if he . . . He treats you alright?"

"Yeah, _now_ ," Harry said, annoyed. "Probably because Dumbledore makes him, though . . ." Harry trailed off when Sirius gave him a strange look. "What?"

"Nothing," Sirius said. "Let's not talk about Snape. We have a week, although I won't be able to spend _all_ of it together. Trying to find a locket that was around here at one point. Haven't seen anything like that, have you?" Harry pointed to the one sitting on the table in front of them, giving his godfather a look that probably said he thought he was being stupid, but Sirius shook his head. He picked it up and threw it in the bin near the table. "That was . . . Regulus', my brother," Sirius said, clearing up Harry's confusion. "I don't know what the one I'm looking for looks like, but if you see one, will you give it to me?"

"What's it for?" Harry asked.

"Just something the Headmaster is looking for," he said, and Harry looked at Sirius suspiciously.

"I'll let you know if I see one," Harry said slowly. _After I figure out what it does_. Because it must do _something_ , right?

Harry stopped that line of thought. Of course he would give it to Sirius if he found it. He _was_ curious about what kind of magic it had if the headmaster was interested in it, though. Could it be something that would help against Voldemort?

"Good. Now, dinner . . . Snape said he was going to be gone until tomorrow morning, so it's just us. Remus will be back in a couple of days, although I'm not exactly sure what he's doing . . ."

"Does he know?

"Does he know what he's doing?" Sirius chuckled. "I _hope_ he does, although knowing Remus . . . oh, you mean does he know about _you_. Yeah . . ."

"Oh," Harry said. For some reason, having one more person know made him feel better. "Good. I wish I could let the Weasleys know, too, but I know that's not a good idea . . ."

"No," Sirius said, but he sounded less than sure. "The Headmaster said it wasn't." Harry had a feeling that the Headmaster saying that was why Sirius agreed. "Anyway, I think sandwiches?"

"Sure," Harry said more brightly than he felt. Sirius stood and standing making the sandwiches, and Harry twirled his wand on the table. He was actually hoping for time alone in the house, which seemed likely since Snape and Sirius were working on some Order thing together. Sirius had said that he'd be able to work on his magic there, even though he wasn't at Hogwarts. He had a few spells he wanted to play around with, but he didn't feel comfortable with these specific ones where Snape would be able to find out. If both Snape and Sirius left, there wouldn't be an problem . . .

"So, Tristan," Sirius started again. "I was wondering how your nightmares have been. Has the notebook been helping?"

Harry stopped spinning his wand, eyes narrowing suspiciously at his godfather.

"I'm still having them," Harry answered, schooling his face before Sirius could turn around.

"Maybe it would help if you talked about them, Tristan?" Sirius asked, but the hesitation in his voice suggested that he already knew some of what they entailed. He lived with Snape for nearly two years, he _knew_ when someone was trying to get information from him, especially as obvious as Sirius was making it. Snape was _far_ better at it.

"What did Dad tell you?" Harry asked sharply, and Sirius turned to look at him, a plate of sandwiches in hand, and sighed. Harry hoped Sirius knew about the bread that Harry was supposed to eat. He still couldn't handle the regular kind.

"He's worried about you, as am I," Sirius said, putting the plate down in between them before sitting. "He didn't go into detail, but he did mention you dream about death a lot. Nearly every night."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry mumbled. "I really don't," he said defensively.

" _Have_ you thought about . . . hurting yourself?"

"I'm _not_ going to hurt myself," he said weakly. "I don't know why you and Dad think that. Just because I'm afraid I . . ." he trailed off.

"Of course," Sirius said, a look of sympathy on his face. "Of course you're afraid you're going to die. I _knew_ it was something like that," he said, that last bit sounding like he was throwing something in Snape's face. Harry sighed. That _wansn't_ it, but it wouldn't hurt to let Sirius think that, right?

It was better than telling him the truth. He would tell them after he figured out _why_ he wouldn't die and maybe after he got rid of Voldemort . . . because that's what he had to do, wasn't it? Harry thought, feeling himself paling.

He couldn't die until _Voldemort_ was dead, maybe? Maybe . . . Harry thought back to the Third Task, the graveyard, the last time he saw him as Harry. Voldemort _had_ to have done something that night. _But why would Voldemort not want him to die_? It didn't make any sense, and thinking about it was making Harry's head hurt.

"I'm here if you need to talk, Harry. _Tristan_. About _anything_ , okay?"

Harry nodded, wondering what Sirius would think, knowing he had evil inside of him.

* * *

"Filthy, filthy. Mingling with filth," Harry heard Kreacher mumble from the corner of the kitchen. Harry knew he should tell the house elf to get out, because Sirius didn't like him hovering in the kitchen for too long, but Harry sort of felt bad for him. Yeah, he was always insulting everyone who visited the house, but he had to admit, Sirius wasn't too nice to him. Not that Kreacher was nice to Sirius, but . . . _still_. "Regulus and Mistress would never have stood up for this, no never. Never, never, never."

 _Regulus_? Harry thought. Sirius' brother . . . Harry thought back to Christmas, when Sirius was throwing out a lot of the things around headquarters, and Kreacher stealing some of it, only to have Sirius find it and steal it back, and Harry felt even worse. Kreacher _was_ a horrible sort of house elf, but he also knew what it was like to not having much of someone you cared about.

Harry's thoughts went to that locket that Sirius threw out a couple of days ago, an idea forming. If Sirius didn't want the locket, what harm would it be to give it to Kreacher? Taking a peak it in the rubbish bin, Harry was glad to find it was still there, albeit underneath a couple days worth of food scraps. Washing it off in the sink, Harry walked cautiously over to the elf. He never bothered talking to him before – Kreacher never seemed to have anything back to say about _him_ , but Harry always kept out of his way.

"Kreacher?" Harry asked, and continued before Kreacher could answer and insult him. "I found this locket that used to belong to Regulus, and I was wondering if you wanted it?"

Kreacher looked at him with big hopeful eyes. A look he _never_ thought he'd see on this particular house else.

"For Kreacher?" he asked, holding his hand out toward the locket.

"Yeah, it's yours if you want it," Harry said with a shrug, handing it over.

"Kreacher remembers this locket," he said, sounding cheerful. "I was being helpful to Master Regulus."

"That's good," Harry said, glad that he was able to make him happy, at least for now. "I would probably not let Sirius see it, though. He doesn't want it anymore, but . . . well . . ."

Kreacher looked at him with a creepy smile. "Kreacher thanks Master Tristan!" he said with a squeak before disappearing with a pop, causing Harry to jump.

"You're welcome," Harry said to an empty room.

* * *

It was nearly the end of the school year.

Harry stood outside the Headmaster's bedroom, not sure if he wanted to go in. Snape took his hand off his shoulder, and Harry wanted to yell at him to put it back.

The Headmaster was _not_ about to die!

He _couldn't_.

Harry was sure if he wasn't so numb, he'd be crying.

"Tristan, he might not be able to hold on for much longer," Snape said. "You must talk to him while it it still a possibility."

Harry nodded, stepping into the room, the door closing behind him. Snape had said Dumbledore wanted to talk to him alone.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice so weak, Harry barely heard it. Cautiously, he stepped toward the Headmaster.

"Headmaster," Harry said, feeling his eyes burning.

"Harry, come sit."

Harry did.

"Don't worry about me, Harry. It's merely a new adventure for me."

"But you're dying," Harry said, his voice cracking.

"Yes, but I've known for awhile, now."

"You're hand . . ." Harry pointed out, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Harry, I need you to stay near Severus," Dumbledore said. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Dumbledore cut him off. "It is _very_ important that you stay near him, that you listen to him. He will protect you. He is your family now, and you are his. He cares about you, you realize?"

Harry wasn't so sure, but he nodded.

"Sirius and Remus . . . they will help, but Severus will protect you as his son, I promise you this."

Dumbledore went quiet, his eyes closing.

"Headmaster?" Harry asked, his voice panicking.

"I'm here, Harry. I don't have much time. I can feel it . . . But never mind me. We haven't had much time to talk, you and I. Have you been faring well lately?"

"Yes," Harry said. He didn't want to worry the Headmaster as he was dying. "I've been great."

Dumbledore chuckled. A weak, sad chuckle.

"I hope you're more honest with your father," he said.

"Yes," Harry said, somewhat honest.

Not honest enough.

"I'm scared," Harry said. "What if I can't kill Voldemort?" he whispered.

"What makes you feel you need to?" Dumbledore asked, shifting so he could look better into Harry's eyes. Harry felt a tug in his mind. Dumbledore was trying to use legilimancy on him.

"I . . ."

Harry froze.

"Harry, you can tell me."

"I think Voldemort's inside of me," he whispered, and Harry felt tears roll down his cheeks, unsure if they were for himself or Dumbledore . . . probably both, but probably more than that, if he were honest. "I think he's making it so I can't die."

Dumbledore's hand took his, but the grip was weak, and was loosening as he sat there.

"Harry," Dumbledore said so softly, Harry almost didn't hear, but even so, he could hear the panic in the old man's voice. "Harry, you must tell your father. You must . . . promise me, Harry."

Harry couldn't answer. Dumbledore's hand fell from his, the panic in the man's eyes a second before . . . _gone_.

"No," Harry said, gripping the Headmaster's arm. "No, you can't leave," he cried. He barely noticed as Snape entered and lead him out of the room.

He was in his room, tucked tightly into his bed before he could process any of the thoughts going through his head. Too many thoughts . . . but there was one thing he knew.

If Voldemort inside of him scared _Dumbledore_ , it was something he needed to keep silent. There was no way he could tell Snape or Sirius or anyone.

 _Ever_.


	30. Chapter 29 - Fathers and Children

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! This chapter was hard to write. I've had to rewrite parts a couple of times. Anyway, you'll get a sample of Snape and Harry having one of their normal conversations (sort of), because I realized I never really show much of that (unless Harry is having a breakdown of some sort . . .) Their relationship really has progressed over the passed two years – wow, it's been nearly two years for them!**

 **A note on Harry/Tristan: He will be turning fifteen soon in his deaged state, but because of everything in the past year, he is still close to the height of a thirteen year old (he's about 5ft tall at this point), but weighs 70 lbs . . . probably about 10 to 15 lbs underweight? Estimating, of course. And Snape really is an idiot in the chapter. His leg is still giving issues (Sirius and Snape are working together on a potion for that now, but it seems resistant to nearly everything they've tried.), Harry's sight is still awful, and he still has trouble eating, but his appetite has increased. He has gained weight since Christmas, if that helps you picture how thin he had gotten.**

 **One slight point from me on muggles/squibs/wizards: I don't know how cannon it is, but the way I see it, all wizards have different magic levels, so I figure you can have muggleborns that aren't magical enough to be considered wizards, but there's enough there that, say, potions work on them. It's that way in this story. It's not an all-or-nothing thing.**

 **I think this chapter is a lot lighter than some of my chapters. Things are** _ **almost**_ **happy. Maybe that was why it was so hard for me to write, but there's a lot happening in the background that's going to cause a lot of problems for them in the future . . .** _ **most**_ **of it hinted at or can** **be** **derived from what's happened so far. Weaving it together is getting harder the deeper I get into the story! Hehe. Sorry for the long A/N. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 29 – Fathers and Children**

Harry was studying in a chair next to the fire when Malfoy walked past him toward the exit to the common room.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, not caring that he sounded aggravated. "Curfew is in ten minutes."

"None of your business, Tristan," Malfoy said curtly. "Just prefect matters, nothing to worry about."

Which was why none of the other Slytherin Prefects were leaving? Harry wondered. He noticed Malfoy had a habit of doing this the past couple of months, sneaking out close to curfew and not coming back for a couple of hours, and Harry knew that if he had his cloak and map, he'd be out there following him, finding out what he was up to. As it was, Malfoy would notice him following him, and he _had_ told his father – several times – that Malfoy was acting suspicious.

He was still itching to follow him, though.

"Why are you studying?" Jake asked suddenly, sitting down on the arm of the chair next to him, taking the book out of his hand. "You don't have to worry about exams and we leave _tomorrow_ ," he said exasperated.

"I don't," Harry said, taking the book back. "And I'm trying to understand the Base Theory for Charms. I guess if you _don't_ understand it, then seventh year Charms is impossible."

"I can't believe you're going to be in _seventh year Charms_ next year," Jake said. "You'll have one less class your last two years, at least," he said with a laugh.

"I'll probably see if Flitwick will let me do an independent study or advanced studies," Harry answered, repeating what Snape had told him several times over that past year. He doubted Snape would give him the option _not_ to, but he had to admit it _did_ feel good to know that he was doing well, even if he had to go _back_ two years to _do_ well.

"Seriously?" Jake asked. "Seriously, you should have been sorted into Ravenclaw."

Harry hit him with his book before throwing it back in his bag. He might as well enjoy his last day with his friends.

* * *

"No, OWLs and NEWTs went as well as they could manage, considering," Minerva told Pomona, who was shaking her head. Severus was barely listening to the conversation, more intent on Danielle, who was nervously rubbing his hand under the table, and Filius, who had seemed to notice how close they were sitting.

Pomfrey was glancing at them across the table, too, though, even though she was in a conversation with Trelawney. A bit unnerving, although he refused to let it show.

It was fine they were noticing, he knew. They had been together for six months. Longer, if he counted the time she was helping him with Tristan. He wasn't hiding his relationship with Danielle; he just didn't feel the need to announce it to everyone who looked their way. Thankfully, Danielle was much the same, preferring to avoid attention as long as possible. It was, perhaps, why she was fidgeting as much as she currently was. She usually didn't attend staff meetings, but one of the School Governors were due to arrive soon to announce the new Headmaster . . . or, rather, Headmistress, because it was assumed the Minerva would be taking the position.

"Can we talk?" she whispered.

"There's a meeting," he pointed out.

"It hasn't started yet. Not supposed to start for fifteen minutes. Please?"

She _was_ obviously younger, though. Sometimes it was painfully obvious, and there were times were it frustrated him to no end. Severus turned to look at Danielle, seeing the worry in her face.

She was young, yes, but most of the time he failed to find the will to deny her anything. Being close to her was as close to happy as he could ever imagine being. Enough to buy her a ring, although he knew it was too early to ask her anything.

"There's a room across the corridor we can talk in private," he whispered, standing. Danielle followed him out and into the room, closing the door after her.

"Is something the matter?" Severus asked cautiously.

"I . . ." she stepped closer, taking his hand in habit. "Severus, I'm pregnant."

Severus started at her for a few moments, processing what Danielle had just said.

"Pregnant," he said slowly. "How . . . long?"

"Over two months," she said, barely moving, and he began to understand _how_. Severus knew she was waiting for more of a response from him.

"That first time," he whispered closed to her ear.

"Well, I've _been_ drinking that potion. Unless it wasn't working because I'm a muggle."

Severus shook his head.

"You don't have enough magic to be considered a witch, but there's enough in you that you can _use_ potions. You said you understood that," he bristled.

"I . . . I _do_. I'm _sorry_ , I'm just . . ." She sighed.

It took a few more moments for Severus to comprehend that Danielle was carrying _his_ child. A few more moments before he found a small smile on his face. She smiled back, relaxing a bit. Running his finger from her ear to his shoulder, he gave her a kiss. A short kiss, but her hand tightened in his and he knew it was enough to calm her for the moment.

"We should go back," he said. "We can talk more after the meeting?"

"Okay," she said, letting go of his hand. Entering the staff room, they sat and Filius leaned in toward him.

"Severus . . . are you and her . . . together?"

His high voice wasn't quiet enough of a whisper for Severus, and several of the staff looked over at the question.

"Yes," he whispered. Thankfully, he was spared any more questions when a wizard entered the room wearing official robes. Rook, if he was remembering the name correctly, but he had never met him personally. He cleared his throat and the staff quieted.

"Well, hello," he said, fidgeting. "So, decision's been made, I'm assuming that's what everyone is here for . . . Well, you see . . ."

Severus sighed, hoping the announcement wasn't going to take all afternoon.

"The new Headmaster of Hogwarts is Severus Snape," Rook said, and Severus finally recognized the man. Graduated ten years ago, absolutely horrible at potions. Barely made it through the five years; Severus had almost convinced Albus to let him dropped him after forth year. No wonder the man was nervous.

After Severus realized this, he tuned in to find the room deadly silent, and he couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong with him today. It never took him this long to process what was going on around him. Except today.

Granted, all the news today was tending to be completely unexpected. He half expected the Dark Lord to walk into the room and announce that _he_ intended to marry a muggle.

Severus found himself glad he bought the ring when he did.

A faint round of clapping sounded throughout the room, and Severus raised his hand calmly in acknowledgment.

Headmaster. A small voice in the back of his head told him he should be suspicious. He was. He had given no indication he had been interested in the job, fully expected Minerva to get the position. But that wasn't to say he wasn't pleased.

 _Headmaster_.

Acknowledgment a long time coming. Yes, he was pleased.

"I must be going," Rook said. "Only stopped by to tell the news."

Rook left and Severus found himself on the receiving end of a roomful of questioning stares.

"I didn't know you applied, Severus," Pomona stated, and Severus stared back at the room seriously. He was worried about the consequences of this decision, though, and he couldn't help but think of his deal with Helita Rowe.

All she had wanted was for him to stay at the school. What use was it to them, him being the Headmaster? _What do they want me to do_? Severus wondered.

"I didn't," Severus said, meeting Minerva's eyes. She stared back at him; there was resentment there, but he knew she would never show it. She had too much sense of decorum for that.

"And you plan to accept?" she asked shortly.

"I must," he said, and she replied with a mere nod.

"Well, congratulations," she said shortly. "We'll make the announcement at dinner."

* * *

Harry sat at the desk in his room in Snape's quarters, trying his best to draw the Hogwarts' coat of arms. He wasn't particularly sure _why_ he wanted to, but he found himself compelled to make a card for his father for becoming the next headmaster. Maybe it was just that he wanted a reason to _draw_ something.

Honestly, he wasn't sure it was a good thing, nor was he sure how it happened. _Snape_ as headmaster? Most of the school was upset as they were leaving. Well, most of the Slytherins were happy about it, and some _small_ part of Harry was happy about it, but . . . Snape as Headmaster? He had vague feeling of horror at the prospect.

Harry heard the door in the living room close, and Harry sat up straight. He hadn't seen his father since the Leaving Feast yesterday, when it was announced that Snape was the new Headmaster. Reluctantly, he stood up, intending on saying congratulations, at least.

Snape seemed startled to see him as he opened his door, though, and he surely didn't look as if he had just gotten home. It looked as if he had been staring at the door leaving their quarters before Harry had come out. The whole situation seemed very un-Snape-like.

"Congratuations on becoming Headmaster," Harry said slowly, and an oddly pleased look passed over Snape's features before he answered.

"Thank you, Tristan," he said. Harry thought he might have sounded smug. "You should begin packing your belongings," he continued, his voice becoming shadowed. "When Albus' belongings have been dealt with, we will be moving into the tower."

"We're going to live in the _Headmaster's office_?" Harry asked. Snape gave him a look that made him feel stupid.

"The office is only the bottom floor of the tower," Snape said flatly. "There is a secondary entrance that leads to the rooms above, so you do not have to pass through the office."

"Right," Harry said, seeing Snape eye the door again. "Is something wrong?" he ventured to ask, hesitating to step further into the room when there was a look in Snape's eyes that he had never seen before. Unknown with Snape could be a very bad thing.

"I do believe I need a drink," he answered, and Harry watched Snape suspiciously. In the two years he'd been living with Snape, he couldn't remember ever seeing him drink alcohol, and he was surprised when Snape went to never-used kitchen and pulled a bottle from one of the high cupboards. Snape pulled two small glasses from a drawer and ushered Harry into his usual seat before sitting down next to him. Harry watched with a feeling of detachment as Snape poured wine into the two short glasses, one nearly full, the other about a quarter full. He slid the small one toward Harry. Harry must have been giving him a questioning glance.

"If you weren't deaged, you'd be sixteen," he said as an explanation.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, hesitantly picking up the glass. He sniffed the drink and made a face.

"No," Snape said before drinking half his wine. Harry wasn't sure he believed him.

"You don't normally drink," Harry told him.

"No," Snape agreed.

"Are we celebrating?"

Snape paused before taking a much smaller sip.

"Perhaps," Snape answered, and Harry didn't feel any more enlightened than he did. "Danielle is pregnant."

It took a few moments before Harry realized that Snape meant Ms. Kavin, and a few more moments before he realized that the baby must be Snape's. Needing something to do before he answered, Harry took a sip of his own drink, scrunching his face as he swallowed. Alcohol wasn't an entirely pleasant taste.

"Okay," Harry said slowly before realization came to him. "So you'll . . . have your own kid," he said faintly. Snape didn't seem to notice. "Are you and Ms. Kavin going to get married?"

Snape looked at him before taking another long drink, and Harry drank more of his own.

"Perhaps. She seemed angry when she thought I was simply asking her because she is with child."

"But you've had that ring for months," Harry pointed out mistakenly. Snape's glare made it obvious that Harry wasn't supposed to know about that.

"Having a ring means nothing, Tristan," Snape said. "I would not have asked her otherwise."

" _Ever_?" Harry asked, but Snape shook his head.

"Perhaps eventually." Snape refilled his glass and took another sip, looking at the fire. "If I find you have impregnated a girl before you are married, I will be very displeased," Snape said out of nowhere.

"I don't even have a girlfriend," Harry pointed out, and Snape gave him other one of those looks that suggested he was missing something big. Harry took another sip of his wine, looking away. He didn't know what else to say. This wasn't the first time they've sat and had a conversation, but the current topic made the situation seem very surreal. "Are you going to tell her the truth about me?" Harry asked, and he could feel Snape looking at him again, but he didn't answer.

It made his stomach knot. Was Snape having second thoughts about him, now that he was going to have his own kid?

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"It's too early, Tristan."

"Oh." They sat in silence for a bit while Snape finished his drink and poured himself another and filled Harry's nearly full. Harry wondered how much wine it took to get someone drunk. "Are they going to live in the tower with us?" Harry ventured to ask.

"You will not have to share a room, Tristan, if that is what you are worried about. There is plenty of space in the tower. And yes," he said bitterly. "If she agrees to marry me, they will live with us."

Harry stared at Snape as the man continued to drink his wine. Needing something to do, Harry finished his second glass. It felt like ages until Snape talked again.

"If you could go back to being Harry Potter, would you?" Snape asked suddenly. Harry froze.

"Do you want me to?" Harry whispered. He was feeling a bit dizzy at this point and leaned back in the chair.

"No," Snape said after a few moments, slowly. "It would be simpler for you to stay as Tristan, especially with Albus gone."

Harry couldn't answer. He didn't have one, and he wasn't sure what to make of Snape's answer. Was the reason he wanted him to stay Tristan so he wouldn't get in trouble for hiding Harry?

"Do you want to go back to being Harry Potter?" Snape asked sharply after Harry refused to answer.

"I like having a dad," Harry whispered. "You'll have your own child, now, though," he said, and Harry berated himself to saying as much. He thought it must be the wine. Could someone get drunk off of a glass of wine?

"Your brother or sister," Snape said, his voice softened. Snape poured himself another glass and emptied the rest of the bottle into Harry's; another half glass. He wondered if he should drink it. He didn't particularly like it, but the taste was beginning to be a bit more tolerable. Making his decision, Harry finished off the drink. This would probably be the only time Snape will ever let him drink, so he figured he may as well enjoy it. The dizzy feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"I do believe I enjoy having a son," Snape said offhandedly, filling Harry's glass with water, and Harry thought it most definitely was the alcohol talking. He put his glass down. "Drink the water," Snape ordered, and Harry picked the glass back up with a sigh.

"I've never been near a baby before," Harry said. "I'd probably drop it."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," his dad said.

"Yeah, I would, with my leg. And the baby would probably weight more than me."

Snape looked at him for a moment.

"The wine is sitting well with you? I didn't think of how it would react with your stomach."

"Fine, I guess," Harry answered. "I'm really . . . woozy, though." The man looked disturbed.

"I may have given you too much. You are too small."

"I'm fine," Harry answered. "I kinda like it."

"My intent was not the give you enough to make you tipsy, much less drunk," he said. "Drink the water. You did eat?" Harry nodded, sitting back again, closing his eyes. He was getting rather sleepy.

"Damn it," Snape mumbled, and Harry had to open his eyes at that. Snape drinking. Snape swearing. Snape having a baby. Snape letting _him_ drink. Snape _Headmaster_. It really was a strange day. "I said drink the water, Tristan, then go to sleep. I shouldn't have given you the wine."

"I'm _fine_ ," Harry mumbled, but drank the water. Now Snape was overreacting. Shortly after he finished, though, Snape took the glass from him and helped him into a laying position, but his head was resting on something. It took a few moments to realize it was Snape's lap, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Go to sleep, Tristan," Snape sighed. "Damn it."

* * *

Harry made his way to the library, intending on finding Ms. Kavin. After he woke and Snape (who hadn't moved the entire time he slept) cleared him to move about, Harry excused himself to the library. Honestly, he didn't know if Ms. Kavin would be there, but he didn't know where else to look. It felt so strange that she and Snape were having a baby, and she had Harry had barely talked before. And if they got married, she would be his _stepmother_. He had a vague feeling of the _evil stepmother_ that was in so many fairy tales, but thankfully, Ms. Kavin seemed much too nice for that. She just didn't seem to talk ever.

But Harry felt he needed to talk to her. He didn't know what he was going to say or where he was going to find her or why exactly he needed to talk to her, but it felt as if he had to say something. It gave him a sick feeling to think about the baby not having both parents to take care of it, plus now he was starting to look forward to the idea of having a brother or sister. Maybe he would draw some pictures books for them.

His thoughts were interrupted as he turned the corner to escape the dungeons but found Draco sitting on the floor, leaning up against the wall.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry asked, but as he was about to pass the boy, he saw that blood was coming from his nose.

And eyes.

"Draco?" Harry asked, his voice breaking. Draco didn't answer, and Harry took a step back. _He's still breathing_ , Harry thought. "I'm going to get Dad," he whispered, turning around, limping as fast as he could go. "AH!" Harry yelled, trying to pick up speed, but the increase pressure on his leg hurt too much.

Feeling like it took much too long to get there, Harry barged into the rooms. "Dad!" he yelled. "Draco's hurt!"

His father, sitting on the sofa, Harry just realized, stood and was by him faster than Harry realized he was there. "Where is he?"

"In the corridor leaving the dungeon," Harry said, and Snape ran off, leaving Harry to follow as quickly as he could. It seemed fruitless to follow, though, since Snape passed him again, levitating Draco behind him. Harry followed.

"What happened?" Harry asked, feeling panicked, from the doorway of Snape's office as his father searched through a cabinet.

"Poison, I believe." Snape's voice was calmer than Harry could imagine at that point.

"But . . . who?" Harry asked slowly.

"If I'm correct, it's a slow poison. It could have been anyone of the students before they left for the train."

"Do you think . . ."

"Tristan, this is not the time," Snape snapped, pulling a stone-like thing from the cabinet before shoving into Draco's mouth.

"What is that?" Harry asked. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Bezoar," he answered, sitting in his desk chair. "And he should be, if I am correct on the poison." Snape paused, watching Draco closely. "If you could occupy yourself for a while, Tristan, I need to watch him."

"He's going to be okay?" Harry asked, not so sure why he felt so nervous that the boy might not be.

"Yes," Snape said after a moment. "I believe he will. His breathing has evened out."

Harry nodded, backing out of the room. Feeling something strange, he wandered until he found himself outside the library. Taking a look over his shoulder – for some unknown possible threat, perhaps – Harry stepped inside the library. He needed to learn more about poisons, he decided. That was, he thought, six year level potions, but Harry found that didn't bother him anymore; going over his classes twice really got him to understand the material.

 _I wonder if I could use a potion to kill the part of Voldemort that's in me but not_ me _,_ Harry wondered, not able to stop that thought that his father might be able to help him with that.

He _knew_ he should tell Snape, but . . . he couldn't, and he didn't know what was stopping him. Scared of what Snape would think of him. Scared Snape would go back to _hating_ him? Perhaps he'd stop trusting him . . .

 _Did_ Snape trust him? Harry found that to be a very wanting question.

Did _he_ really trust _Snape_ to protect him, even though Voldemort was more than likely a very horrible part of him?

He _wanted to_. He really did. Maybe he just needed to learn more about what had happened to him before he told Snape anything. Maybe he needed to stop _sulking_ about dying and _do_ something about it.

He was nearly to the potions section of the library when he saw her. Ms. Kavin.

He stood, watching her for a moment, thinking that she must know he was there. He hadn't exactly been quiet, with his cane on the stone floor, but she continued to shelve the books she was holding. Gathering up the courage, Harry walked up to her.

"Ms. Kavin?" he asked hesitantly, and she looked over at him.

"Hi, Tristan," she said, shelving another book. "How can I help you."

"Dad told me," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. She looked at him closely before putting the books down.

"You are really close to him, aren't you?"

"I . . . he's almost all I have," Harry said, realizing how true it was. _But that's not true_ , a voice told Harry. _Sirius and Remus know_ . . . They weren't around a lot, though. Sirius couldn't spend a lot of time at Hogwarts because everyone was looking for him, and Remus was away most of the time.

Ms. Kavin walked over to the nearest table and sat, indicating to the seat across from her.

"I know we should have talked some," she said quietly. "I'm not very good with people."

"Is that why you and Dad get along? He's not very good with people, either." She laughed.

"He can be when he wants to be. He's better than me." She frowned. Harry wasn't sure he believed her, though. She seemed nice, while Snape . . . well, he was nice to Harry now, mostly, but he still saw him around other people. Good with people was not a phrase to describe Snape.

"I think you're a lot nicer than him," Harry pointed out, and she shook her head.

"Are you trying to convince me to dislike him?" she asked with a small smile. "You two seem close, but you definitely don't have a usual fatherly view of him."

"He wasn't my father until recently," Harry said. "I mean, I didn't know until recently. Two years ago."

"He never said," she said slowly.

"We actually fought a lot, before. I mean, we got on at first, but . . . well, then we didn't talk for _months_. He hated me, I didn't want anything to do with him . . ." Harry tried to stopped himself, knowing he might be making Snape look bad, but he just had to say something.

"Why?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Too different, I guess," Harry told her slowly. "I did something stupid, and he just saw me as another student and didn't want to deal with me, I guess."

"I've seen you two together," she said, sitting up straight. "You two talk as if you've known each other forever."

Harry shrugged again. "It got better after I got cursed," he said. "We spent a lot of time together. Before I got curse, he . . . he was going to send me to someone else to live with."

Ms. Kavin sat back, looking at Harry with a calculating glare.

"Do you think he's a good father?" she asked.

 _Is he_? Harry asked himself.

"We don't always get along, but he'd do anything for me," Harry admitted, to her and to himself. "I think he _has_ done anything for me. I wish I had him for a father before. I wish I _had_ a father before."

Harry realized he wanted to get off the subject, but it turned out he didn't need to try.

"I should go talk to him," she said, getting up and leaving. Harry hoped he didn't say anything he wasn't supposed to.

His thoughts quickly changed back to the library, though. He really should start to look into poisons and antidotes . . .

Looking around the library, Harry wondered how much of the staff was still there. He didn't think many of them had been there last summer, so maybe most of them had left already, and even if they hadn't, there really wasn't much reason for them to be there with no students, right? Harry knew that Ms. Kavin liked being in the library, so . . .

Maybe there was no one else there. No one to stop him from sneaking into the Restricted Section and taking a peak at some of those books he noticed before but couldn't manage to get to . . .

A quick wander around the library, Harry was confident that no one would stumble onto him if he took a detour to the Restricted Section before he looked for some potions books.


	31. Chapter 30 - Beginning of a Summer

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Just as a reminder, Danielle Kavin, although her being in the story is essential, she's not going to be a big part of the story. Unless you guys _want_ me to write more of her (which you'd have to tell me) this chapter – until the baby is born – is probably the most you'll see of her. So I am sorry if the female OC is turning anyone off. **

**This chapter is basically a continuation of the last one, so I'm posting it now as a gift for posting very late the last . . . however many times. I've enjoyed toying with what Harry would be interested in now that he's not smack-in-the-middle with the Voldemort thing (well, less than he would be otherwise), unable to play quidditch, and with an adult who is willing to encourage him to expand his interests. He seems the type to me to be more hands-on from his ability to fix things and use Dudley's throwaway toys, and add that onto his interest in fiction stories . . .**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Chapter 30 – Beginning of a Summer**

Severus made one last check on Draco, now sleeping in his bed, before heading back out into the sitting room. Where Danielle was waiting.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," Severus answered.

" _Why_ do you want to marry me?" she said after a moment.

Severus stared at her, unable to say anything.

"Tristan told me he only met you two years ago," she said quietly. "Said that before he was cursed, you were going to send him to live with someone else."

"He told you that?" Severus asked darkly, but she gave him a half smile.

"I think he was trying to manipulate me into agreeing to marry you," she said, but Severus shook his head.

"Tristan speaks his mind. He wouldn't know how to manipulate someone," he answered sharply. "You mistrust everyone."

"You think I mistrust you."

"You're not a very trusting person."

"Neither are you," she said. "Do you trust _me_?"

Severus paused before answering. "Yes."

"You do," she said flatly. "The Dark Lord . . . _your_ Dark Lord . . . the one who probably wants to kill you now? The one who-"

"Are you trying to say he might have orchestrated everything in order for you to get close to me so he could kill me?" Severus asked incredulously.

"You can't know that he didn't. You don't know what he did to me."

"No, I don't. You don't speak about it," he snapped. "But you're passing your paranoia onto me. Just because everyone lies does _not_ mean that everyone is out to get me, and the same goes for you. The reason you are no longer a prisoner of the Dark Lord is because Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy traded you for their protection. You _know_ that."

"I don't know _why_ they did that, only that they did," she said sharply. "Misdirection, perhaps . . ."

" _Were_ you sent here by the Dark Lord?" Severus asked bitterly.

"No!"

"Then why even mention it?" he asked.

"But what if I _was_ and I don't _know_. Maybe he . . . magicked me to not know about it or something. He . . ."

"The Malfoys deflected because they were worried for their son's safety," Severus said quietly. "They were there when Tristan was cursed."

Danielle didn't respond to that immediately.

"What happened?" she asked. "You never gave me a clear answer."

"I brought him to a Death Eater meeting," he said. "The Dark Lord had taken an interest in him, and Lucius had brought him once before, without my permission, to speak with him. He insisted the next time I was called I brought him along. I did, and then he was cursed by an insane witch, and the Dark Lord ordered me to leave him die. The Malfoys did not want their son to live a similar fate. Their deflection has nothing to do with you, only that you were being held in their dungeon when they made their decision."

She stayed quiet, looking at the ground.

"You still don't believe me," Severus said flatly.

"I don't know what he was doing to me," she said, and Severus could tell she was trying not to cry. "He . . . he said he _created_ me, which doesn't make sense. From what I've read so far, you can't _create_ a person with memories and . . . emotions and everything. But he said he did, and according to Albus and _everyone_ , I _don't_ exist. I . . . he was experimenting on me. I don't know what he was doing."

"He had no reason to believe you'd escape," Severus told her. "No reason to believe _I_ was a traitor. He trusted me."

"Which was why you brought him to the meeting," she said quietly. "Was that why you were going to send him away?"

Severus stared at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"Partly. I didn't want him caught up with the Dark Lord, no, but I also didn't feel capable of being a father to him. When he was cursed, I couldn't trust anyone else to healing him, and I found quite the opposite to be true."

"He believes you would do anything for him."

"I would," Severus said without pause, and she finally looked up at him.

"You really don't think he's using me like that?" she asked quietly.

"No," Severus said. "I don't. I don't think you realize how paranoid you are."

"No, I know. I guess," she said slowly. "I mean, logically, I know, but . . . it doesn't make it any easier. And magic makes everything that much more dangerous and suspicious."

Severus didn't respond to that, knowing if he continued along in the conversation, she'd probably find some way to convince herself she was dangerous again. Intelligence and paranoia were never a good mix, and she had a high level of both. With good reason. The Dark Lord held her captive for a year, somehow erasing all evidence of her existence or implanting false memories; it made her suspicious of nearly everything. Severus had been hoping they'd be past that, but he supposed the doubt was sowed too deep.

"Why do you want to marry me?" she asked again, and Severus took a few steps closer to her.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her, and she looked at him with a pleading glance before closing her eyes. She didn't answer at first, but Severus decided to let her take her time.

"Yes," she finally answered. "I think."

"Do you want to marry me?" he asked her quietly, stepping right up to her. She opened her eyes, but didn't answer. "I want to marry you," he continued.

"Tristan said he wished he knew you were his father when he was little," she said, and Severus wondered why she kept bringing him up. Was she fishing for something in particular? That little piece of information did make him feel better about whatever conversation they must have had, though.

"I don't know how good of a father I would have been, then," Severus answered truthfully. "His mother . . ." Severus stopped. Even Albus didn't know the entire story, the pain had been nearly as bad as when Lily died. But perhaps he owed Danielle as much of himself as he could give.

But how could he tell her, weave in the story about Tristan, and still have her trust him if the truth ever came out? He claimed he trusted her, but not with that? "His mother had been hired to destroy me," he said hesitantly. "And she nearly did. He, caring for her child, would have been impossible."

"She would have killed you?"

"Killing me was not what she had been hired to do," he said as flat as he could. "But I have learned since she has been hired to kill before."

"Who hired her?"

"A Death Eater who managed to escape being persecuted," he told her, hoping she'd leave it at that. "Danielle," he said, making his decision. "There _is_ something about Tristan I cannot tell you at the moment. It is too dangerous, but I _will_ tell you when I am able," he said quietly.

She nodded slowly. Thankfully, she knew the seriousness of the war. Hopefully, it would be enough.

"I want to marry you," she said. "But what if _us_ being together is too dangerous. Once people start learning-"

Severus quieted her by shaking his head. Another argument she would bring up and eventually he would convince her she was thinking too much on it. It wasn't say say Severus wasn't cautious, but being a spy taught him where to focus that suspicion. She would learn, he hoped, as time went on.

"Yes," she said finally. "I will marry you."

It was a few hours later that Draco finally woke. Severus was waiting.

"This has, I hope, taught you where you shouldn't play?"

"I know what I'm doing," he answered shortly, sitting up.

"So you _intended_ to get poisoned," Severus said calmly, making it seem as if it all made sense. "You intended to get yourself killed after your parents risked their lives to protect you. Or do you truly believe the Dark Lord? Do you intended to give us all away to him as proof of your dedication to the cause?"

"No!" Draco said. "I haven't given them any important information. You don't _understand_. I _know_ why my parents made the decision they did. After what happened to Tristan . . . Tristan's a _pureblood_ . . . well, mostly, and he's _powerful,_ and the Dark Lord still would have let him die, but . . . if I don't _pretend_ I still support the Dark Lord . . ." Draco took a deep breath. It was obvious he was still waking up; he could usually manage to put together complete sentences. "I grew _up_ with them. I know I can't trust them, but . . ."

"Perhaps it is time you found new friends," Severus said flatly. "There is only so much power and trust you can earn using lies and money, and neither seem to be working for you at the moment."

Draco glared at him, but Severus merely helped him out of the bed.

"What information have you given them?"

"Only that you plan on staying at Hogwarts – which everyone knows anyway – and that the girl from the dungeon is here. I told you, _nothing_ important."

"You have told them about Danielle Kavin?" Snape asked dangerously, and Draco took a step back.

"Is that her name?" he asked, putting on a bored voice. "I don't see why it matters, especially to you. She doesn't even have magic. Why would the Dark Lord care about her?"

"You believe that the Dark Lord would have your parents put effort into keeping her alive – which, from their accounts, wasn't easy – when he had no interest in her?"

"I didn't know they were ordered to do that. The only reason I knew she was there was because I snuck down there one day during the Christmas holiday. I'll admit she _is_ prettier now that she's cleaned up, but she's still a muggle."

Severus took a deep, controlled breath.

"I will be marrying Danielle shortly," she said flatly. "Do not speak of her with such disregard."

The look on Draco's face disgusted Severus, although he knew very well there was a point which he believed – at least partially – in blood purity.

"I have already contacted your parents. You will be joining them tomorrow. I suggest you pack."

Draco's mood darkened, but he left without too much fuss. He suppose by tomorrow Lucius would know of their engagement, too; that was a conversation he wasn't sure he could prepare for.

* * *

Harry entered their rooms, his backpack full of books, and his free arm carrying the rest. He really hoped no one checked the check-out logs very often, but he figured that as no one caught him checking out books from the Restricted Section for the first time, no one would notice the second time. Or, perhaps, they would assume that he had a pass from someone, being Snape's son anyway. Or, even better, that no one would recognize the books as ones from the Restricted Section. The titles didn't scream _Dark Arts_ , and someone would have to look the book up in the catalogue to learn more about it. He was very careful about what books he chose.

Those books were hiding in the bottom of his backpack. The rest were mostly potions books and a few charms books.

"First day of the summer holiday, and you've found yourself enough books to last half the school year," Snape said flatly, and Harry gave him a glare as he dropped the books and the book bag on the bed in his room, hoping his father wouldn't take too much of an interest in them. "Perhaps I don't need to purchase you anything more to read."

"These are just Potions and Charms books so I can study ahead," Harry said quickly. Snape knew he finished all the novels from before. Even reread a few of them. "I have an idea for a project I want to do," he said truthfully. Well, several projects, but Snape didn't need to know about _all_ of them _yet_.

"What sort of project?"

Harry found himself blushing. He didn't _actually_ want to say it aloud. His father would probably find it foolish that he was going to try to magically recreate things from the books he read.

"Well," Harry said quietly. "You'll think it's stupid."

"Tell me anyway," Snape said. "I would like to know what trouble you plan on getting yourself into."

"Well, it's sort of like magical robot," Harry said, his blush deepening. He wasn't even sure if Snape _knew_ what a robot was. He never asked about the books Harry had been reading.

"Like a golem?" Snape asked.

"No, like a droid. Golems are stupid, I want it to be able to make decisions and learn stuff. And I already checked, it's not illegal or anything."

"A droid," Snape said slowly.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I knew you'd find it stupid."

"I don't find it stupid, I just don't know if it'd be possible. To create an inanimate object to be able to make decisions for itself based on independent learning? Even transfigured animals need to have it's purpose instilled by its creator."

"Muggles have done it," Harry pointed out. "And not just in books and films. Maybe not very _big_ decisions, muggles have computers that have to make decisions, right? I have heard that a computer can play chess, and _that_ requires making decisions, right?"

Harry could tell that Snape didn't believe him, and he gave a shrug.

"I believe they would have programmed it to make a logic decision based on the information it has from the information programmed into it," Snape said, and at Harry's questioning look, he continued. "I _do_ understand a bit about computers, Tristan."

"Well, anyway, it's just an idea," he mumbled. Snape was still giving him a strange look.

"I suppose it will keep you out of trouble this summer," was all he said. "But don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work. I will help you, if I can."

Harry thought about the Hogwarts map. _That_ insulted Snape before, didn't it? How was that not making decisions? Probably not using very good judgment, Harry pointed that out. Thankfully, it didn't make Snape angry.

"I'm sure they used a charm similar to the ones used for portraits of once-living people," his father answered. "It will respond how the person it emulates would respond. You could probably make a . . . droid based off of you, if you wish to go that route," he said.

"No, then it wouldn't act like a droid," Harry pointed out.

"Is it that important?"

Harry shrugged. "Just really cool," he answered with a smile. "What about the portraits that _weren't_ based off of people?"

"Same concept, only they are spelled to behave certain ways. No intelligence past challenging you to a duel and tell you what they've seen. If the painters put a lot of work into it, it can appear intelligent until you try to converse with it past the basics."

"But they have a memory," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose they do."

Harry smiled, feeling like he won at least _one_ part of that conversation. And at least it helped narrow down what he'd have to research. Snape was still giving him an odd look.

"Can I have the map back this summer?" Harry asked suddenly. "It's not like Harry Potter would have it anymore, and we can say that Sirius gave it to me. There's several Order members who know we get along, now . . . you said I wasn't getting the cloak back for awhile, but you never said anything about the map."

Snape sighed. "I will give it to Black to give to you later today," he said.

"We're going to Headquarters?" Harry asked. "What about Draco?" Not that Harry was complaining he'd get to see Sirius.

"He is recovered," Snape said. "I will mention to Slughorn that he'll need to keep an eye on him until tomorrow, but he will be fine. I sure it will take him the next day to pack," Snape continued flatly. Draco did have a _lot_ of belongings _._ He had one of those trunks that were bigger on the inside, with five compartments, and it was still mostly full. Draco's reasoning was he needed to bring everything important because he wasn't sure when he'd get to go home again, but Harry thought it was still excessive. Even with everything Snape had bought him, he's probably only be able to fill two regular trunk-fuls.

A few hours later, Harry found himself in the kitchen with Tonks and Remus, waiting for Sirius to get back from talking with Snape. They had been talking for nearly half an hour; Harry was hoping they didn't kill each other. There hadn't been any explosions or yells from the rest of the house, so unless they cast silencing wards, they _should_ be fine . . .

It was another fifteen before Sirius came into the room without Snape.

"Tristan, your Dad had a few things to take care of with the Malfoys," Sirius said, and Harry nodded. "I guess since Albus' death, he has taken over as Secret Keeper for a few of the safehouses, and he needs to check their warding."

"Oh," Harry answered. He didn't know that. "He's going to be really busy now," Harry realized out loud.

"Yeah," Sirius snorted. "Snape as Headmaster? I thought he hated teaching, and now he's going to be running the entire school!"

"You don't seem that mad about it," Tonks said. "A few months ago, I thought you were trying to kill him every time you heard his name."

Sirius shrugged. "We have a truce," Sirius said. "And he's not the man he used to be."

"Well, he _has_ been working for the Order for years, Sirius," Remus said.

"No, not just that," Sirius said, and his godfather look at him. "He used to _love_ the Dark Arts. Now, he uses them when he must, but he doesn't approve of it."

"Yeah, Dad would kill me if I started learning the Dark Arts," Harry said, trying to emphasize what Sirius was saying, but his godfather just have him a look.

Great. Snape told Sirius about his dabbling. It was a good thing he hid those books in his room at Hogwarts. He still didn't know why Snape was so against him learning it. He wasn't going to hurt anybody with the curses. He needed to _protect_ himself.

Harry need to get them off this topic.

"But that's not the only thing that's going to keep him busy," Harry said. Snape had pretended not to delegate the telling of the news of the marriage to Harry; Harry figured that Snape was embarrassed, especially since he'd know what everyone was going to say. Snape having a _kid_ is one thing. Having a deep enough relationship with someone to marry them? Well, _Harry_ knew it was possible, but Harry had a growing feeling that he was one of the few people who knew there was more to Snape than being mean.

"Well, he has taken most of Albus' duties in the Order," Tonks said. "I guess they've been planning for the last year."

"And he's getting married!" Harry inserted with a smile. His smile grew bigger as the other three occupants of the room stared at him dumbly. The whole idea was getting better the longer Harry sat on it, honestly. He was going to have a _family_. A real _family_. And Sirius was going to make a big deal to Snape in a couple months that he'd like to become Tristan's godfather since Tristan never had any named . . . if he could forget everything else, he realized he'd be happy.

He _was_ happy. Until he thought about Voldemort. Harry's smile fading somewhat, he looked at everyone in the room.

"Your dad is getting married?" Tonks asked.

"Severus?" Remus added. "Who is he marrying?"

"Danielle Kavin," Harry said. "She works in the library at Hogwarts."

"I've met her!" Tonks said. "She's two years younger than me!" She hit Remus on the shoulder. "And one of your arguments was that _we_ have too much of an age difference!"

Harry gave them a look, wondering what she was talking about.

"It's going to be a summer of weddings," Sirius said. "Bill and Fleur, you two and now Snape."

"What?" Harry asked. "Bill's marrying _Fleur_? And _you two_?"

Harry only realized what he said afterwards. Thankfully, Tonks was the only one in the room who didn't know his secret, and she didn't know that Tristan never met Fleur. Of course, Draco did mention her when he was telling Dudley about the Triwizard Tournament, so at least he _heard_ of her.

"It seems it's the fashion to marry older men this year," Sirius said offhandedly. "Do any of you know of any more beautiful women in the Order?"

Tonks threw a breadroll at him. "I should go," she said, sounding much more cheerful than she was before. "Too much to do."

"You're marrying Tonks?" Harry asked with a smile. He didn't know her very well as he only met her a few times, but she seemed cool.

"You're surprised about that, but not about Snape getting married?" Sirius said.

"Well, I was surprised about that. Sort of. Don't go telling everyone yet, but they're going to have a baby," he said really quietly.

Sirius coughed up the tea he'd been drinking.

"What'd he _do_ , give her a love potion?" Sirius asked, and Harry wasn't sure what exactly Sirius was commenting on, but he turned to Harry. "If I find you've knocked up a girl before you're married, I might just have to make sure you can't have any more kids," Sirius said pointing at him.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling himself get red.

"Sirius," Remus said warningly.

"Well, maybe nothing that extreme, but you are to be married before you have sex, kid. I can't believe it, Snape, setting that sort of example."

"Sirius," Remus said again. "It's nothing you haven't done."

"I haven't gotten a girl half my age _pregnant_ ," he said.

"Not to say you wouldn't now if given the chance," Remus said back, and Harry looked at his old professor in surprise. It wasn't very often Remus talked like that. As much as he knew, anyway. Sirius just sighed and took another sip.

"Well, I'm happy," Harry said quietly. "I'll have a real family, finally."

"Is he going to tell her?" Remus asked.

"When it's safe," Harry answered. "I think Dad told her there's something he can't tell her yet, but he wasn't too clear."

"Are they going to have a wedding, or just go to the Ministry? Tonks and I are going to the Ministry. We don't want a lot of fuss, with the war going on," Remus said, and Harry looked at him.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think Ms. Kavin . . . _Danielle_ , really talks to anyone but Dad, and Dad . . . well, he'd probably invite the teachers and you guys, and maybe the Malfoys, who would probably be angry at him that he's marrying a muggle, so it wouldn't really be a big wedd . . . what?"

"Danielle is a _muggle_?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Well, officially, they have her a squib through the Ministry because Voldemort did something so her past doesn't exist, but she really is a muggle . . ."

The adults were giving him blank looks again, so Harry sighed and tried to finish his food.

* * *

Transfiguring the mice were becoming second nature to Harry. At first, they were disturbing, because they seemed like living mice, but they would just _stand_ there. If he'd nudge them too much, they'd just fall over. But they breathe and he _could_ transfigure them to walk if he wanted to.

Harry was tired – it was three o'clock in the morning – but Snape hadn't left their rooms in three days for longer than a few minutes, and Harry wanted to try a few of the spells from the Restricted Section books to get a feel for them. They seemed like something a Death Eater might cast on him, and the only shield that the book claimed could partially stop them made no sense. He wanted to see what exactly they did, what they felt like, so he could try to come up with a few of his own. All those curses _did_ have counter-curses, but being able to stop them all together would be preferable.

Three curses in, Harry wondered if he could use the curses themselves to add to the shield that would supposedly block them. A shield that absorb and stored the energy to become stronger instead of reflecting, like the current shield wanted to do. It _would_ take several modifications, but . . .

It was nearly six when Harry finally packed away his experimentation and fell asleep.


	32. Chapter 31 - Good News and Bad

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews! Just a little reminder on the history of Tristan Snape . . . It is claimed he was raised by his mother, Ronda, who had very little contact with people, she died, and he was sent to live with his father, Severus Snape. Now, the timing is off on her death slightly, I know (don't know if anyone noticed from the beginning of the story), and that will be covered in the future. That's not necessarily important to the plot at the current moment, but I wanted to remind you who Ronda was. (Also, I don't remember giving her a last name previously (and I couldn't find mention of it), so she has one now. If I _did_ give her a last name before, let me know please so I can fix the inconsistency. )**

 **Chapter 31 – Good News and Bad**

The next two months, in Harry's opinion, was rather dull. Sure, he managed to transfigure and spell his magical robot a bit – not that it actually _did_ anything useful, yet, but he told himself he was still researching – they moved into the Headmaster's tower – he had nearly an entire floor of the tower to himself! – and absolutely no one supervised the library during the summer.

And he was absolutely sick of the library. Also, he had explored Hogwarts top to bottom using the Marauder's Map, and although some things changed constantly, it was starting to not be as impressive to the point he was pinpointing what sort of spell could manage a few things. Snape was busy most of the time with trying to organize for the new school year and finding a new Defense professor. He had gotten to know Danielle better, but she had started taking some muggle University classes though the mail – the post office must do something to transfer it to owl post – and she wasn't that talkative of a person to begin with. His drawing, at least, was becoming rather good.

Despite being sick of the library, though, Harry was tired of everything else he had to do and he was back in the library. A couple of weeks ago, he managed to find a way to clear what he wanted from the library registry from something Sirius mentioned and he began spending more and more of his time in the Restricted Section. He was surprised to find that the Restricted Section held more books on advanced studies than Dark Arts and he was currently sitting on the floor between the Transfiguration and Charms sections trying to understand the fundamentals on transfiguring life-like reactions into objects. Sure, he could do it, but understanding the principle of _why_ it worked wasn't exactly easy. He kept having to reference other texts to understand what was going on, and even then, he wasn't sure if he was looking in the right place.

He was so absorbed by his reading he didn't notice his father enter the section until he was standing over him. Harry looked up to find Snape _very_ not pleased.

"I did not authorize you to come in here," Snape said dangerously.

"I _am_ going to be in seventh year Charms," Harry pointed out, glad he had been looking at relatively harmless books. Without warning, Snape _accio_ 'd the book he was holding.

"This is Transfiguration," he said coldly. "Way past NEWT level." Snape _accio'_ d the rest of the books and seemed to relax a bit when he saw they were all on Transfiguration. "What else have you been reading?" he hissed. "Have you been perusing the Dark Arts?"

"No!" Harry lied, forcing himself to look Snape in the eyes, occluding. "I'm just working on my project, and you've been busy, plus I _am_ in a seventh year course . . ." Harry trailed off at Snape's look.

Snape hovered the books onto a table. "Come along," he said flatly, turning around. Harry stood quickly.

"I'm not in trouble, am I? No one ever said I couldn't go into the Restricted Section, and I _am_ in an advanced class," Harry said quickly. "What if I need-"

"Enough!" Snape snapped. "Just come with me. I wish to talk to you in private, not where anyone could overhear."

Reluctantly, Harry picked up his bag and started limping after the professor, who was already out of the Restricted Section, far ahead of Harry. It was another few steps for Harry before Snape looked over his shoulder and realized Harry was so far behind.

Snape's expression changed to something akin to pity, and Harry scowled at him.

"You are not in trouble," Snape said sharply. "But you will not enter the Restricted Section alone again."

"But that's not-"

"I believe you'd rather we discuss the _why_ when we are private?" Snape asked, and Harry glared back at him.

"Fine," Harry snapped as he caught up and they moved at a much slower pace to the Headmaster's tower. Snape took him through the entrance with the gargoyle, and Harry couldn't help but think he was still in trouble, even if Snape said he wasn't. Why were they going to his _office_ if he wasn't?

Inside, Snape indicated that Harry should sit, but Harry looked around the office glumly. Several of the instruments that Dumbledore kept were still there but had been moved, and it looked like most of them have been removed. There were a few new things, most of them Harry recognized by Harry from Snape's other offices, but the lack of stuff in the office made the room seem uncomfortably big. Those portraits that were still in their frames looked bored, and Harry eyed the one Dumbledore occupied; the Headmaster was still asleep.

"Sit," Snape finally said, and Harry did, reluctantly.

"I am sorry I have not paid you much mind this summer," Snape said slowly. Harry shrugged as if it didn't bother him. Snape didn't seem to believe him. "I have taken care of most of the preparations for the school year, and should be able to spend less time working."

"You've found time to spend with Danielle," Harry said without thinking. Annoyed with himself, Harry looked down at his hands in his lap.

"I also happen to sleep in the same bed as Danielle," Snape said flatly. "I assure you, it hasn't been so much a matter of finding the time as listening to her while I'm trying to sleep."

Harry looked at Snape, sure he didn't need that information, but Snape probably wouldn't listen if he told him that. The few times Snape _did_ manage to find time to talk to him, he still seemed to be trying to give Harry _that_ talk. Harry supposed that babies and sex and stuff were on his father's mind, but that didn't mean he needed to make sure _Harry_ knew about that sort of stuff. He had managed to wrangle himself out of the conversations so far; as far as he was concerned, Harry was fine waiting until he was older to talk to Snape about that.

Or perhaps not until he was married.

Or . . . perhaps never.

Harry wondered if it was strange that he had no interest in sex.

"Another thing I have been remiss about," Snape said, sliding a letter across the desk piled with paperwork on either side. "Your Hogwarts Letter."

"Weeks late," Harry mumbled, but Snape heard him anyway.

"Yes. Again, I am sorry. I wanted to give it to you personally."

Harry picked it up, the weight heavier than he remembered his previous letters. Opening it, a badge fell out.

"You made me prefect?" Harry asked, holding the Slytherin badge.

"Professor Slughorn did, although I do agree."

Harry put the badge down on the desk, pulling out the letter slowly. Unsure how he felt about becoming a prefect. A part of him was happy about it. He made _prefect_. But was it because his father was Headmaster? It _had_ to have been, because Harry was sure he wasn't meant to be prefect. His friends would tease him because they would know no one would listen to him. In all of the trouble in the last two years, without the help of fame but with the help of depression, Harry had become the Bookworm of Slytherin. The Slytherin that should have been a Ravenclaw, even though Harry knew it was simply because he didn't really have anything else.

No one looked up to the half-dead know-it-all.

"I was expecting you to be a bit happier about it," Snape said slowly. "Do you not wish to be prefect?"

Harry shrugged.

"Tristan?" Snape pressed.

"Why did he choose me?" Harry asked. "Because of you?"

"No," Snape said sharply. "You do know you are the top of your class?" Harry shrugged again, and Snape sighed. "His other reasons included the fact that you frequently tutor your classmates and younger students and you don't instigate problems among other students."

Harry gave Snape a doubtful look; the younger students came to him without Harry offering to help; he didn't like it, but he wasn't going to turn them away, and no one fought with him because they were afraid he'd die on them if they breathed on him wrong.

"Are you unhappy with the decision?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head.

"No, I just . . . do you think I would have made prefect if I was still . . . you know . . . _me_?"

Snape gave him a look.

"Are you any less yourself now?" Snape asked, and Harry stared at him for a moment. "Do you make an effort to be someone you are not?"

Harry thought about that and realized he didn't. Yeah, he couldn't fly right now, and everyone didn't know him like they knew him when he was Harry Potter, but he didn't force himself to do stuff he didn't like or anything.

"No," Harry finally responded.

"You have grown in more ways than just age over the past couple years, Tristan. You cannot expect to be entirely the same person you were before."

"I guess," Harry reluctantly conceded. "Why can't I go into the Restricted Section alone?" he asked, changing topics.

"You can't guess?"

"Because you don't trust me not to look at the Dark Arts stuff?" Harry replied hesitantly. He didn't want to talk about this.

"Yes. That, and by all appearances you _are_ fifteen; the Restricted Section is off limits to anyone below sixth year without a pass, and even then, someone who works in the library will usually retrieve the book you are looking for."

"That's not fair," Harry said.

"I could ban you completely from the Restricted Section," Snape said. "But I do understand you have been working on rather advanced magic, which is why I am willing to allow you in with accompaniment. I would rather it be myself, but Danielle can assist you, also."

Harry huffed.

"I also wanted to let you know that the the Malfoys and . . . _Dudley_ will be arriving in a few days so you can prepare yourself. I do believe that Draco has been in a rather . . . _offensive_ mood as of late."

"Are they coming for the wedding?" Harry wondered. "Why is Dudley coming?"

"He is coming to distract Draco. I do not know the details."

"So they're still getting along?"

"I'd assume so."

They sat in silence for a bit while Harry looked over his letter.

"We will be going to Diagon Alley in a few hours for your school supplies and dress robes. Make a list of other things you wish to get, we will be there for awhile. I have managed to convince Danielle to leave the castle." Harry looked at Snape in surprise. "There will be several Order members with us," Snape continued slowly, and Harry became suspicious.

"Is something going to happen?"

"No. The trip will be be completely safe," his father told him. "Death Eater activity has subsided for the moment, and we have information that the Dark Lord has no plans to act on at the moment."

"Is he just planning something?" Harry wondered. "I haven't had any visions lately . . ."

"It is believed he is out of the country, perhaps somewhere on the mainland, but our source is unable to give us more information. But it is good timing." Snape paused. "We must expect that this will be the last visit to Diagon Alley we will make in a long while. Many shops have closed, while others are only letting certain customers in. Be thorough in your list."

"Can we go to a muggle bookshop?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I don't see why not," Snape said slowly. Harry narrowed his eyes. There was still _something_ Snape wanted to say, Harry could tell; his father wasn't hiding it very well.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

"No," Snape said after a moment. "Quite the opposite, I would say. As an . . . attempt to mend the bridges between the Malfoy and Black family lines, Lucius had devised a trap so that the Ministry would capture Petter Pettigrew."

"Why would Malfoy want to do that?" Harry asked. "I mean, I know they no longer want to follow you-know-who, but I'm quite sure they still think of them as blood traitors . . ." Harry trailed off when he realized what the second half of what Snape had said _was_.

"They are, I hope, beginning to realize that such strong prejudices should be kept to oneself in favor of alliances and mending bridges," Snape told him, but Harry wasn't listening anymore.

"Sirius! Somebody has to tell him!"

"He has known," Snape said, appearing to contain his annoyance. "The trap was set over a week ago. Black was pardoned two days ago, and was released this morning after they determined him sane," Snape sneered this last part.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Harry felt himself whine.

"Black did not wish you to know he was willingly going into Ministry custody, but the outcome was nearly guaranteed."

"So, he's free?" Harry asked quietly, and Snape nodded. He felt excited and nervous at the same time.

"I have officially made him your – Tristan Snape's – godfather, and should something happen to me, he will be the one to take over guardianship."

"No one is going to find that strange?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I mean, I know you and Sirius had been talking about it, but . . ."

"There will be a few, I'm sure, but many in the Order know that he has been working to help control your pain. They will see it as a position earned, and if anyone questions it, they will be receiving that reasoning."

Harry realized he had been smiling so big his face was beginning to hurt. Even Snape's annoyed sigh did nothing to quell his happiness.

"I am sure you'll find this next bit of news nearly as exciting," Snape said flatly. "I have hired Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor this year." Harry felt his jaw drop.

"You're serious?" Harry asked after a few moments and Snape nodded. "Not that I'm not happy about that . . . but why?" Harry dared to ask.

"I wished to have another Order member on staff, and he was the only one available," Snape said flatly. "I do not wish to discuss it."

* * *

Harry sat as he waited for Snape to finish his order in the apothecary. It seemed to him that his father was ordering excessive amounts of ingredients, and it wasn't even for the school. Next to him, Danielle was fidgeting, and the movement only served to remind Harry that he still needed to go to the bathroom. He wasn't even sure _why_ she was so fidgeting. The shop was empty except for them, and Sirius and Remus were watching the door from the outside. And there were probably _other_ Order members watching secretly.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" he asked her.

"Ask your father," she said, although not harshly. "I'm not sure where the bathroom is."

Harry looked over at Snape, who was now – finally – waiting at the counter for the man to bring him his ingredients, so Harry went to ask him. His father gave him a nod, pointing to a door between two tall shelves and Harry limped through, finding a narrow hallway. He sighed and pushed the first door open. Thankfully, it was a bathroom.

He was washing up when the door suddenly opened to a thin wizard. Harry glared at him as he reached for his cane, but the man grabbed it before he could, closing the door and shutting Harry in with him.

"Dad!" Harry yelled, but the man already had his wand out and threw a few spells at door before Harry even managed to draw his wand.

" _Expelliarmus_!" the man yelled, and Harry's wand flew into his hand. Instead of aiming another spell at him, though, the man reached for him, holding his arm against Harry's throat, Harry's back to the man. "Pathetic," the man hissed in his ear. "So, you're the Snape boy. Who are you really, hmm?" the man asked, shaking him and pressing harder on his throat. The pressure was hard enough Harry was having trouble breathing. "Son of Ronda Releik, hmm? Funny that she never had any children, although, I do have to admit, good choice for a ploy. I'm probably the only one to know her well enough to know she abhors children, and nearly nobody has seen her in nearly thirteen years." He gave a sickening laugh as he loosened up his grip to allow Harry some air, only to press harder.

"No," Harry tried to say.

"My luck seems to be rather good today," he said. "She was quite interested to learn she had a son. I only found out by chance, myself. I wonder . . ." the man used his wand to poke Harry in the bad leg, "what this is about. What is Snape up to? Has he been slandering Ronda?"

Harry tried to shake his head, but the man jerked up, and Harry felt something pop in his neck.

"So pathetic," he said again. "Don't worry, I'll let you go once I get the signal to apparate. A cage would be better to keep you in, wouldn't it?"

Harry started struggling more. If this man apparated with him, no one would ever find him.

"No, you don't," the man said just as the door slammed open, hitting both him and Harry. It wasn't enough for the man to let him go through, and he turned to face the intruder.

Snape. Harry, despite still being in the man's grip, relaxed a bit. "Let him go," Snape demanded.

"Are you going to risk hitting the boy to curse me?" he sneered and suddenly a flash came from behind Snape, going over Harry's head and hitting the man. Harry fell to the floor coughing while the man was thrown back and hit the wall. Snape was at his side in a moment.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head.

"He knows Ronda," Harry tried to say, but it came out in a raspy whisper. "He knows I'm not her son." Snape heard him, though.

"Stay here," Snape said calmly before standing to taking the few steps to Sirius, who had his wand pointed at the unconscious wizard. Harry didn't feel up to moving much anyway; he was glad to be breathing again, although it hurt. Snape and Sirius whispered between each other for a minutes and Harry reached out for his wand and cane, which had fallen nearby. He couldn't believe he let himself be disarmed.

"Hurry up, then," Snape finally said, and Harry overheard a whispered, "Obliviate," from Sirius. Just in time . . . the shop owner appeared in the doorway a minute later.

"What is happening here?" he asked harshly.

"This man deemed it necessary to attack my son," Snape replied just as harsh. "Do you know him?" Snape knelt down by Harry again, this time his wand out and pointed at his throat.

"No," he said, but he sounded as if he were lying, Harry thought. Or perhaps he was just paranoid now. "Attack how?"

"Had him locked in the bathroom with him and was choking him. If you could call someone to deal with him?"

"Right," the owner said. "I'll notify the Ministry . . ."

The man left, and Snape helped Harry up.

"You alright Tristan?" Sirius asked.

"I guess," Harry said, his voice still a whisper.

"Go ahead and bring him to St. Mungo's, Snape," Sirius said. "I'll keep an eye on this man and I'll met you there when he's taken care of."

Snape nodded and helped Harry though to the main part of the shop to find that a few aurors had just arrived through the floo.

"Where is the man?" one of them asked.

"In the bathroom," Snape replied. "Unconscious, but Black is watching him." The one who asked when back through the door while the other one eyed him and Snape.

"He doesn't look so good," the second auror said. "That man do all of that?"

"No," Snape answered before Harry could. "Tristan suffers from curse damage previously. We found the man choking him."

"Who would choke a sick child?" the auror asked, shaking his head. "Go ahead and floo to St. Mungos. If we have any questions, we'll find you there. Snape, correct?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"Geesh," the man answered as Danielle and Remus came over to them. "Did it seem personal?" the auror asked Harry and as he opened his mouth to speak, Danielle cut in.

"I think that, after being choked, he might not be up for speaking," she said sharply, and Harry looked at her, startled. He never heard he speak like that before.

"Right, Miss," he said. "Of course. You're free to go."


	33. Chapter 32 - Sidekick

**A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews! I'm still alive, I promise! RL issues have been coming up, but the time, not writing gave me time to think about a few more things for the story. I was able to flesh out the story more in my head, so yay? I _will_ see this story to an end, I promise. I've thought too much about it not to.**

 **Summary of what's happened so far:**

 **Harry's pretending to be Snape's son, Tristan (who doesn't actually exist), and the son of an old . . . _dead_ . . . girlfriend of Snape's. He was deaged two years, so while Ron, Hermione, and Draco are in 7th year, Harry/Tristan is in 5th . . . and he's a Slytherin prefect this year. He's taken to the Dark Arts, believing it will be what will protect him from the Dark Lord (hiding this from Snape), while regular Defense magic is giving him problems with his new wand. He's gotten decent at Occlumency, but it doesn't stop the visions because it's a different sort of magic, magic that is preventing him from passing on; preventing him from dying, which he found out when Bellatrix accidentally cursed him and he _did_ die for a few moments.**

 **Voldemort's response to Tristan getting cursed caused the Malfoys – and Severus – to turn their back on the Dark Lord, which led to the Malfoys handing over Danielle, who they had been keeping alive in their dungeon on the Dark Lord's command, which eventually led to Severus and Danielle falling in love. Harry and Snape have a decent relationship right now; Harry is on the border of considering him 'dad' and thinking of him as 'Snape', and doesn't quite understand why he feels so attached to him, but he likes the idea of having a real family, now . . . oh, and Danielle is pregnant with Severus' child. Tristan's 'brother'.**

 **Hopefully that jogs your memory! I'm so sorry for the wait, but I really hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **Chapter 32**

Severus found Lucius' company very much lacking that day. Tristan had reluctantly gone with Draco and Dudley to somewhere on the grounds, _away_ from where their small wedding was being set up, and Narcissa had stolen Danielle away to do something, leaving Severus to deal with the older wizard. Narcissa, at least, seemed to be taking the issue of Danielle being a muggle rather well – even if she was simply hiding how she actually felt – but Lucius was barely trying.

"I suppose on some level, it _does_ make sense," Lucius finally conceded after nearly an hour of complaining about integrating a muggle into the wizarding world – to which Severus first argued that she had been forced into the wizarding world against her will and finally just settled on letting Lucius rant. "You _are_ a half blood, so I understand the willingness to marry someone non-magical, but you _must_ realize that your children's blood will be diluted even further."

"There is no proof that muggleborns or halfbloods have any less magical power than purebloods, Lucius," Severus finally said, nearly ready to leave his rooms and Lucius behind while he found a table at the Hog's Head. "Surely you realize the top contender to Draco in his year is Hermione Granger – a muggleborn."

"Not to mention how wrong the views of muggles are," Lucius continued as if Severus hadn't spoken. "Blood matters aside, we don't need their _ideas_ infiltrating our perfectly sound traditions."

"Everything can't stay the same forever," Severus sighed. "And Danielle is already bearing my child, which you know. You aren't going to change my mind."

Lucius stared at him for a moment. "I believe Narcissa is happy for the female companionship," he said, changing the subject. "Perhaps we should have stayed the summer here. She says the two women that stay in the safe house with us are especially dim-witted. Danielle appears to have a decent thought capacity, at least."

"She's quite a bit more intelligent than most witches I've met," Severus answered. "If you could stop attempting to talk me out of my wedding," he continued, "perhaps we should find something else to talk about."

Lucius didn't look entirely please about keeping quiet on the matter, but he finally seemed to get the point and shut up about it.

 _Much_ to Severus' relief.

* * *

"I'm kind of excited about this year," Harry said, since it looked like Dudley was tempted to talk to him about something he shouldn't and Draco had the look of someone who was ready to just jump into the lake they were walking toward. It was odd seeing Dudley; he had lost a lot of weight over the last year, enough weight that he could no longer be considered over weight. "I made prefect. Dad says he think I'll do a good job, even though I'm worried no one will listen to me."

"If they don't, tell me," Draco said. "I'll curse them until they do."

"You're supposed to be working on _not_ doing and saying that sort of stuff," Dudley pointed out.

"Yeah, well, what do you know about it?" Draco muttered, but Dudley ignored him, obviously used to his current attitude.

"Hogwarts has prefects?" Dudley asked. "Aren't you a little young, or it because . . . _you_ know," Dudley hinted, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm fifteen," Harry pointed out, "and we have prefects from fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Draco is one, too."

"Yes, and I can't keep my position of power using the Dark Lord anymore, since it is obvious they didn't believe me, so I'm going to have to prove I'm more powerful than them," Draco said. "I'll keep them inline if they don't listen to you."

"Ms. Caviet says that you don't need brute force to exert control over another person," Dudley said, obviously quoting something she said, whoever Ms. Caviet actually was. "People are more likely to follow someone who is more likely to reward their good behavior than simply punish them for bad behavior."

"Well, what does _she_ know?" Draco asked with force. "She's muggle."

" _I'm_ muggle, remember."

"Yeah, but you're alright. You basically have the right ideas for things, except when you're quoting that blasted woman."

"She's real nice, and she's taught me a lot," Dudley said. "So stop being mean to her."

"Fine," Draco said, kicking a rock out of the way. "I don't have to deal with her anymore, so I won't talk about her anymore."

Harry listened his cousin and Draco talk while they ignored him. Well, Draco ignored him and pulled Dudley into a conversation. It was obvious to Harry that Dudley wanted to get him alone to talk about something.

"So, my father said someone attacked you a few days ago, Tristan," Draco said, as if he just found out he was there. "What was that about? A Death Eater?"

"No," Harry said. "At least, I don't think so. It was someone who didn't like my mother, I guess," he continued, using the story Snape set up.

"I thought your mother was recluse and never talked to anyone," Draco said, probably repeating what he overheard Snape say at one point. "That's why you were homeschooled and never went to Hogwarts before."

"She did talk to people _sometimes_ ," Harry said, feeling oddly protective of his false mother he never met. "We almost never left the property, but she never told me the reason." Harry hadn't talked to many people about his so-called 'life' before Hogwarts, but Severus pounded these stories into him over the past couple years, so perhaps that was why he felt so close to them – it was the idea of a mother he was protective of, not the woman herself.

"Maybe she killed a powerful enemy," Draco guessed, "and she had to stay hidden or else they would find her, but now they're finding _you_ -"

"My mother's dead," Harry said flatly. "It's not like there's anything anyone can do about that."

"Except reap revenge through _you_ ," Draco said as if he solved the greatest puzzle in the world.

"Why do you sound happy about that?" Dudley asked, being unusually perceptive.

"Maybe I'm just sick of being the only target," he answered. "It's nice to have a little company over here."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Are you excited for the wedding tomorrow?" Dudley asked, and Harry shrugged.

"It'll probably be long and dull," Draco said. "I hate weddings."

"Have you been to a wedding before?" Harry asked.

"Several. You sit and watch the ceremony, and then the adults go off and mingle and dance, and they usually don't bring anyone your age to talk to."

"You _are_ an adult now, at least," Harry pointed out. "You could just mingle and dance with them."

"It's a half-muggle wedding," Draco said, faking a shudder. "How am I supposed to know _who_ to mingle _with_ unless I ask them for blood status, which I would get in trouble for. So I'm going to be stuck with you two, because no one our age is coming, I bet."

"Or you could not care," Harry said. "Besides, I don't think there's any muggles coming to the wedding. All Danielle knows now is wizards and witches."

"Oh, great," Draco said suddenly, disgusted. "What are _they_ doing here?"

"Who?" Dudley asked, looking around. Harry spotted Remus and Sirius in the distance, coming toward him.

"Professor Lupin is going to be the Defense professor this year," Harry said. "I've met him. He seems nice."

"You _do_ know he's a werewolf, right?"

"A what?" Dudley asked. "A _werewolf_? So he could turn into a wolf right now and eat us?"

"No!" Harry said. "He only changes on the full moon, and Dad makes a potion for him so he's perfectly safe."

"He's still a werewolf," Draco pointed out.

"He suffers from a curse. How is that any different than what happened to me, only his was caused by a bite while mine was caused by a wand."

"I did mention he's a werewolf?" Draco asked again, his voice flat this last time. Harry shook his head and started walking toward his godfather and Lupin, glad to finally be able to get away from Draco, if nothing else. He didn't make it far before the two adults caught up to him and he could still hear Draco scoffing and he could feel Dudley standing right behind him.

"Hello, Tristan," Sirius said. "Your dad said it's time to get ready."

"Already?" Harry asked.

"It's nearly eleven." Harry sighed. He _was_ happy that he was going to have a real family, now, but . . . _was_ it going to be more like it was during the summer? Snape working all the time, Danielle working on school . . . and eventually taking care of a baby? Snape said that he would spend more time with him, but . . .

Harry shook his head, wondering, _really_ wondering, why it mattered so much.

"Well, I should start getting ready, too," Draco said in an exaggerated bored tone.

"Are you in the wedding, too?" Dudley asked.

"Of course not," Draco said. "I wouldn't participate in a half-muggle wedding, even if I do get along with _you_. I would lower myself to wear those clothes you wear for _your_ wedding, I suppose, if you marry a muggle, but a half and half wedding?"

"Why are you even _coming_ then?"

"Mother said I should," Draco answered, but Harry was sure that the answer wasn't that simple.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm going to go get ready."

"I'll come with you," Dudley said, and Harry had to hold back a sigh as he limped across the grounds towards the castle, thinking he needed to work with his healer to be able to walk faster. It was ridiculous how he couldn't even _escape_ anyone.

In his room, Dudley looked around with awe.

"This entire room is yours?" he asked, and Harry shrugged, looking around.

"Benefit of your dad being headmaster," he answered. Curved on one side and straight on the other walls, with too much space for Harry to fill himself. His bed was on one of the flat walls, his desk and bookshelves near the window on the curved wall, a wardrobe and dressing area across from the bed . . . and not much else. Still, the space was all his. Bigger than Dudley ever had.

"Which one was the werewolf?" Dudley asked.

"Professor Lupin? Er . . . the one who had shorter hair," Harry answered, trying to decide how to describe him. "The other one, with the dark hair, was Sirius Black, who-"

"Sirius Black!" Dudley said, eyes wide again. "That mad man who escaped from prison a few years ago?"

"Of course you would remember _that_ ," Harry said. "I guess it was all over the telly. Yes, but he was proven innocent. He's my godfather. Now, at least," Harry corrected. "He's been helping trying to find a potion that will work for my pain."

"Your life is so exciting," Dudley said almost wistfully. "Werewolves and flying and . . . and people escaping from prison and all that."

"Not that exciting," he answered. "I spent most of the summer in the library because there wasn't anything else to do."

"Yeah, sure, but you were learning _magic_."

"I suppose," Harry said.

"What were you learning about?"

"Well . . ." Harry looked over at the clock to see he still had nearly two hours before the wedding started. And this was something Dudley might appreciate. And if his cousin had been able to keep the secret of who he really was, he'd be able to keep this a secret, too. "Don't tell anyone, but I've been working on trying to make a robot with magic instead of computer stuff."

"A _robot_?"

"A droid. Something that could help me if I got in trouble."

"Could I see?" Dudley asked, nearly jumping up and down.

"Well, it doesn't do much yet," Harry said, going to the trunk he had been keeping it in, pulling out a gray ball about half the size of a football. Putting on the floor, he tapped it with his wand, muttering, "Reveal," and it started to morph into a short, stone humanoid. He had originally transfigured it to be two feet tall, but sometimes it came out a bit shorter. This time, it seemed to want to be about a foot and half tall, and the edges weren't as smooth as they were supposed to be, causing a scraping sound when it swayed back and forth.

Something to work on later.

"Cool!" Dudley said. "What does it do?"

"Not much, yet," Harry answered. "Go to the bookshelf," he told the rock robot, and it clumsily walked across the room. "Little stuff like that."

"And you made it by yourself?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I think it will be a long time before I finish it, though."

"Well, if you want any help . . ." Dudley said, and Harry gave him a look. "I know I can't do magic or anything, but I can . . . I don't know . . . help you come up with code words or commands or something. Come on," he said, stepping real close to Harry and lowering his voice. "I can be your side kick," he whispered. "I'll even be here this school year to help you!"

"What?" Harry asked, startled. "You're staying at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, they're coming up with a disguise for me so I can stay. I'll pretend to be Draco's squib brother."

"Draco doesn't _have_ a squib brother," Harry said flatly. "And why would you do that?"

"Draco needs someone who won't trick him," Dudley said.

"So the _Malfoys_ are going to pretend that a _muggle_ is part of their family? I don't understand why _they_ would do that. They _hate_ muggles. You've heard Draco talk."

"Draco talks big," Dudley said. "Ms. Caviet says he's trying to compensate, and that he needs a friend. And Draco _did_ have a squib brother who was a year younger than him, but he got sick when he was little and potions didn't work to make him better, so he died."

Harry laughed, his voice dark.

"So, suddenly, a Malfoy squib pops up out of nowhere? How are they going to explain where he had been since he died?"

"Well," Dudley said, "they kept Cepheus hidden until he died, anyway. I guess that's why they never had any more children. They were afraid another squib would be born."

"And you don't see anything wrong with that?" Harry asked bitterly. "No, wait. Of course you don't. Have to keep the freak away from the rest of the family, right?"

"Harry," Dudley whispered.

"No! I'm _Tristan_ , and I have my _own_ family now. You'll _ruin_ things if anyone finds out," he whispered back. "If anyone finds out that I'm alive, I'll probably end up _dead_ , and now you're going to pretend you're a _Malfoy_? Did you know they would have wanted me dead, too, if they knew who I really am?"

"Not any more, Tristan," Dudley said, his voice almost whiny. "I know they still don't like muggles, but Draco _is_ my friend. And I won't tell them. I haven't yet."

"Magic can uncover memories," Harry told him harshly. "Your parents can't be happy with this," he changed tactics.

"They aren't happy with anything," Dudley said. "They're still terrified of magic. They got moved to another safehouse, but I chose to stay behind. I wanted to help. And the Malfoys just don't want muggle and wizard blood mixing. And this is just temporary. Mrs. Malfoy is afraid Draco will do something that will get him poisoned again."

"And _you_ ' _ll_ help with that?"

"Yes. Draco and I are friends."

"Okay," Harry said reluctantly. "Fine. How are they going to disguise you, then?"

"Potions work on me," Dudley answered. "How do you think I lost so much weight? Mom thought they were poisoning me, though. Mrs. Malfoy is real good at potions; she made me one that will make me look like Cepheus should have looked like."

"Like polyjuice? That only lasts for an hour."

"What's that? No, I only have to take this potion once a week. Or two, maybe, but I'll take it once a week just to make sure."

Harry stood, staring at Dudley, not sure how to feel. Dudley staying at Hogwarts? Wasn't it bad enough he was visiting?

"You can't tell anyone. Ever," Harry said forcefully. "It might be harder if you're at Hogwarts with other wizards who knew Harry Potter."

"You don't have to worry. Cepheus never even met Harry Potter. I won't tell anyone."

Harry decided that the Dudley that stood in front of Harry was nothing like the Dudley he remembered. It was a slightly disconcerting feeling. What had happened over the last year? He had a feeling that this Ms. Caviet had something to do with it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Harry's door, and it opened.

"Tristan," Snape said eyeing him. "Get ready. Black said he sent you to get ready half an hour ago."

"Okay!" Harry answered back, realizing his voice betrayed the tension he was feeling. After Snape closed the door, Harry turned to Dudley again. "Does my dad know that you're going to pretend to be a Malfoy?"

"No," Dudley said. "No one can know the truth. We're going back to the safe house tomorrow, but Mr. Malfoy is going to convince him to let us stay at Hogwarts during the school year to protect Draco, and they'll come pick me up where they'll say they've been keeping me . . ."

"Sounds kinda far fetched," Harry said. "Why are you telling me, if no one can know?"

"Well, I know your secret. Now you'll know mine. I _told_ you. I can be your sidekick."

Harry stood still again, staring at Dudley. The boy really wasn't the same as he was when he was a kid, and it made Harry feel dizzy.

* * *

Severus watched as Danielle got ready, wondering when her hair had grown so long. She normally kept it up, messy. Down and wavy – _was it normally wavy?_ he wondered – it swayed to her movements and he found he couldn't stop watching her.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Danielle asked as she stepped into her dress.

"That won't take me long," Severus answered, and his future wife gave him a look that told him he best not say anything – _what was the word she used?_ – corny. Something had her upset, and he couldn't tell if it was something he did or just the pregnancy. He stood to help her connect the small hooks running up the back of her dress. "Did you enjoy your time with Narcissa this morning?" he ventured to ask, and she threw a glare over her shoulder.

"Don't leave me alone with either of them again," she said quietly. When Severus didn't answer immediately, she started fidgeting. "Look, I know if it wasn't for them I wouldn't even be here, but . . . just . . . _don't_."

"Of course not," Severus said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he finished the last hook. "I wasn't aware you were uncomfortable with her. I was not pleased with Lucius' visit myself."

"This . . . blood thing is ridiculous," she snapped. "And what's even more ridiculous, with their _leader_ , nothing was even insinuated about being less of a person because I'm a muggle, and _he_ was claiming he _made_ me."

"It's thousands of years of prejudice that is still strong in some families," Severus answered. "I would have asked Lucius to not attend the wedding if he hadn't helped save Tristan's life." Severus turned her around, keeping a hand on her shoulder. She sighed.

"It's alright," Danielle finally said. "Just don't leave me alone with them."

He kissed her and she leaned into him. Severus was tempted to skip the wedding and just lay with her for the rest of the day, not particularly wishing to deal with the small crowd of people that would have started gathering by then.

"I love you," he said into the top of her head, and she mumbled the words back into his chest.

* * *

Harry stood watching the ceremony in his spot off to the side, holding the rings. He could feel the magic in the rings building as the ceremony went on. Danielle looked prettier than he had ever seen her; she normally didn't do much to make herself look nice, and Snape looked . . . happy.

Really happy. Harry was sure he had never seen that look on his face before.

The pain in his scar came out of nowhere and it took all of Harry's willpower to keep from showing it, and even more to keep attention on the wedding. It was getting close to time to hand the rings over. In an effort to control the pain, Harry slowly closed his eyes to find himself looking at a destroyed room, the walls crumbling around him.

Voldemort was angry. He could feel it and see it. He opened his eyes again, hoping the look on his face didn't give away his distress.

The pain subsided as Harry heard his cue to walk to Snape and Danielle to give them each others' rings; if Snape noticed anything off, he didn't let on as he accepted the ring, and Danielle gave him a smile. They were happy. Voldemort was angry. _Both is good, right?_ Harry thought. _My family is happy, and something has gone wrong with whatever Voldemort's plan is_.

He couldn't help but feel something was wrong with the fact that he had a vision while he was awake. Standing, in the middle of something important . . . all he had to do was close his eyes. Just when everything was supposed to be going _right,_ it felt like everything was going wrong.

* * *

"Severus," Lucius greeted as Severus let him into the Headmaster's office a few days later.

"Lucius," Severus said guardedly. "I wasn't expecting you back."

"I was surprised a magical bonding worked," Lucius said smoothly, changing the subject. Severus sat up straighter, suspecting that Malfoy had more of a purpose than just a visit.

"Potions also work on her," Severus answered just as smooth. "I suspect she might even be able to brew the basic ones that don't require spellwork, but we haven't tried."

"Even that muggle boy Draco befriended can make use of potions. I consider it a good thing. The boy's size was ghastly."

"His aunt was a witch; that is not surprising."

"Don't pretend to be an expert on muggles and magic now that you're married to one, Severus," Lucius said. "But what's done is done. How is married life suiting you?"

"Very well," Severus said, giving a nod of his head, but said no more. The last few days had gone much better than _very well_ , even with Tristan's problem with his scar. His time was spent with Tristan and Danielle instead of work. Even the prospect of Lucius' probable goading couldn't bother him at the moment.

"Good," Lucius said. "I'm happy to hear."

"Are you?" Severus asked.

"Yes. I _am_ sorry about appearing to be wishing your wedding ill-tidings. I have been upset about many of Draco's decisions lately."

"Like befriending a muggle?" Severus inquired.

"Nothing quite so simple, Severus," Lucius continued. "He has been talking about continuing to pretend he is still following the Dark Lord, making plans that could endanger his life. I did not risk the Dark Lord's wrath to have him walk straight back to him."

"You are sure it is just talk?" Severus asked, indicating that Lucius should sit, which he did. "You have raised him to follow the ideals the Dark Lord had been pressing."

Lucius' response was slow coming. "He will not join the Dark Lord willingly," he answered. "But he is a Malfoy. His interests are in power, surely you know this."

"And what is your plan? You must have an idea if you are coming to me."

"I wish for Narcissa and I live in the castle this school year. You have the power to grant us permission now."

"And you think this will help?"

Lucius paused. "Narcissa thinks it will be best if we bring Cepheus back to live with us."

"Perhaps," Severus said slowly, "you should start at the beginning."

"We have a second child. A squib, Cepheus."

"That you, like many purebloods, kept hidden over the years. Even from me."

"Look at what _you've_ hidden from _me_ ," Lucius said flatly. "If you want to talk about secrets, perhaps we could start down that line of betrayal. Yes, we've kept Cepheus hidden, but we treat him well, and he and Draco have always been close. When the Dark Lord returned, we sent him away, worried the Dark Lord would discover him and use him as a tool against us if we failed him. That's not a worry now, and if we live here, Draco could visit his brother as frequently as he needed. Ground to fall back on when he needs it, because he's made it known he's becoming his own person and won't always listen to me."

"It wouldn't be as safe here as the safe house," Severus said, wondering if there was more to this than Lucius was letting on. His instinct was to keep him close to keep an eye on him.

"We'll keep out of the way. Rearrange a few rooms to allow us plenty of space. It's a big castle."

"Yes," Severus said, and the size of the castle was something he was hoping to make use of as Headmaster. The more he learned about running a school, and with ideas from Danielle, he had every intention of growing Hogwarts above and beyond what it currently served. Albus did what he could to improve the school, but Severus realized that he wasn't entirely open to new ideas.

That was a few years in the future, though. He needed a plan, needed everything organized to convince the school board it was the right direction for Hogwarts.

"Was that an agreement?"

"You _must_ promise to stay away from the students. You would be confined to your rooms when students were at Hogwarts unless I give express permission."

"That tight of a hold, Severus?"

"The school is my responsibility now," Severus said. "And it would not benefit your safety – nor my son and wife's – if anyone knew you were here."

Lucius sighed. A rare happening with Lucius Malfoy.

"I was expecting that, in any case," he said. "So you agree?"

"The agreement in conditional," Severus said. "I will prepare you rooms. How old is . . . Cepheus?"

"He will turn sixteen in a month," Lucius drawled. "I thank you for you kindness."

"Anything else?" Severus asked, and the man gave him a smile.

"No. Nothing at the moment. Please, do have a good day."

Lucius left, and Severus could help but wonder if he was making a mistake. He didn't feel he had to worry about Lucius betraying him to Voldemort. Voldemort had proven that he would not supply the power he offered, had proven the price would be too high. No, it was something else he had to worry about, and keeping him in a safe house a thousand miles away would not help him watch the Malfoys if their word wasn't as clean as they claimed.


	34. Chapter 33 - Danielle

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews! I made it past 300. Yay! Anyway, special chapter, from Danielle's POV in order to allow me to dig deeper into certain aspects of the plot (and to answer some questions y'all might be having). This will probably be the only one in her POV, but I make no promises; something may come up, even though I doubt it.**

 **I've been getting some reviewers disliking this chapter because they don't like Danielle, and I am sorry about that. She's not a major character in the entirety of the story, and I did mention that before, but her character IS necessary for stuff later in the story, and I've gotten several readers who were asking for more interaction of her with Snape and Harry/Tristan, and since those were the readers consistently leaving me reviews/PMs, I obliged. I did say in the A/N at the beginning of the story that there is more to the plot than the Harry/Snape story, to quote:** "It is a Snape mentors/takes care of/sort-of adopts Harry story, but there is more to the plot than that . . . This story will follow both Harry and Snape as they try to navigate through their lives, as they deal with the war, and of course, their trying to get along." **I will update the description to be more clear that it is not SOLELY focused on the mentorship, but these are plotlines that have been hinted at from near the beginning of the story.**

 **As for the negative reviewers, "Nobody likes a mary sue," and "nobody likes Danielle" is not constructive criticism, and I DO have readers who like her in the story. I'll understand if some of you don't like her because she's boring, because quite honestly, she can be. She barely talks and she's not going to come out of nowhere and save the day. That's not her purpose for this story. If you can hold out for longer, you'll see why Danielle needed to exist.**

 **If you're reading this for the Harry/Snape angst and you're willing to get through a few chapters that focus on Danielle, keep reading because there's a lot more problems to come, but there _will_ be more of Danielle than I originally planned for the story because people have asked for it. But seriously, for the length this story will be (100+ chapters), she's not a huge part in it.**

 **Oh, and just a reminder. Everyone thinks Harry Potter is dead. No one is looking for him, nor will they be. Any finding out the truth won't happen until MUCH closer to the ending. Which is a long way away.**

 **If you're still reading . . . hopefully you like this chapter. It was hard to write for Danielle. She doesn't talk much and getting a conversation out of her isn't easy. Geesh. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Chapter 33 - Danielle**

Danielle threw the rest of the clothes in the suitcase, glaring at Severus. Just a few days after she told him that she didn't want to be left alone with the Malfoys, and he allowed them to move to Hogwarts for the school year.

"I need to keep an eye on them," Severus said, his arms crossed. "And they'll be confined to their quarters at the opposite end of the castle. You won't see them, much less find yourself alone with either of them."

"I still think the squib story is a bit off," she said, not relenting, but not wanting to dwell on it.

"It doesn't surprise me to find they would hide a family squib. It _does_ surprise me that they would tell me after hiding it for so long. Their opinion on blood purity hadn't changed."

"No," Danielle spat. "It doesn't seem it has."

"Which is why we are spending the last few days of term at Headquarters to take care of Order business," Severus said coolly. Really, Danielle knew that there was no reason they all had to spend more time than the meeting at Grimmauld Place – and not much reason for Danielle and Tristan to go – but Danielle wasn't arguing with Severus on not being in the castle when the Malfoys moved it. And Molly had pressed the issue after Severus had mentioned it.

Molly Weasley was one of the few people who didn't seem to have a problem with the fact that Severus was nearly twice her age or that her stepson was a mere 4 years younger than her. He did seem a lot younger, though, if you were to just look at him. His growth had been stunted significantly, and if she didn't know better, would probably have said he was 12 or 13 instead of the 15 years old he actually was. He acted younger, a lot of the time, too, his reasoning often unbalanced. The curse probably hadn't helped matters; it caused nerve damage, and he hadn't exactly had the time to start developing, either physically or emotionally.

"There's going to be a lot of people there," she said.

"And you can keep your distance if you wish. Most of them will only be there for the meeting. You made it through the wedding alright, and most of them were there to see _you_."

Danielle looked at Severus, trying to understand his reasoning. She barely knew anyone at the wedding, and most of them greeted her at the table she sat behind, while she claimed to be tired from the pregnancy. Which, to her credit, was true. It didn't change the fact that too many people near her tended to give Danielle headaches, with the swirling colors of magic all around. Sometimes, she wished she could simply go blind.

Closing the suitcase with a thud, Danielle latched it and was stopped from moving it to the floor by Severus hovering it to the floor himself, the suitcase appearing to glow blue as it landed.

"I am perfectly capable of lifting my own suitcase," she said without too much heat behind it, taking a step back as Severus walked towards her. His eyes flashed surprised pain for a second before his expression became blank.

"You are truly so upset about it?" he asked guardedly, and Danielle hesitated to answer. She _was,_ but she was unsure if she should mention to Severus as much. Lucius Malfoy, as a captor, had been nothing but cruel, keeping her alive as his Dark Lord insisted, but had not been above inflicting any sort of abuse her way short of actual rape. The man was deplorable, despite his apparent caring about Tristan. She was unsure if Narcissa knew of his treatment of her, but found she would rather never know.

She quite honestly didn't want to talk about it, even to Severus. Especially to Severus. On top of Lucius' threats that were keeping her quiet, she wasn't sure how Severus would react.

"I'd be happy if I never had to see him again," she settled on saying. "I don't want to fight about it."

Severus walked up to her, a worried look in his eyes. "I never would have agreed to it if it weren't for the circumstance," Severus said, and Danielle could feel the sigh he was holding back. "Despite his suspicious behavior, he is correct that Draco is rather unstable at the moment. But you will not have to go near them. If Narcissa asks for your company, I will make your excuses."

"I doubt she'd ask for my company," Danielle said flatly. "She finds my tastes rather bland, on top of my lack of magic."

"For all of that, she is a rather social witch," Severus told her, his voice layered with something Danielle couldn't decipher. "She may request your company just the same."

Severus paused.

"Let's not talk about it right now," he continued, playing with the buttons on her shirt. Danielle closed her eyes, not particularly in the mood for any such thing, but couldn't help but feel glad at the knowledge that she never felt horror at Severus' touch. The one person she didn't cringe at the idea of skin to skin contact. Not wanting make it appear she was distancing herself, not wanting to push him away, Danielle allowed him to continue.

* * *

They left for headquarters in time for dinner. Danielle wanted to wait until after, but Severus insisted; the meeting would be held directly after dinner, and there was no way to know how long it would last. Danielle did have to admit it would have been rude to stop in halfway through dinner and not eat. Molly was a mother inside and out, and enjoyed feeding people.

Danielle wondered if she herself would be that way someday. As it stood now, the prospect of so many people at the same dinner table unsettled her. Tristan seemed just as nervous as she felt, though, and she wondered the reason.

"Are you okay, Tristan?" she asked, and he looked up at her, his glasses distorting his eyes strangely. It was always difficult, looking Tristan in the eyes; the strong magic on his glasses was somewhat distracting. She wondered if it was just because she hadn't grown up with magic that it bothered her so much.

"Okay, yeah," Tristan answered distractedly. "Who do you think will be there?" he asked as Severus went to fetch files he forgot.

"The Weasleys, Sirius and Remus for sure," Danielle answered. "I'm not familiar with who else is in the Order."

"Oh," Tristan answered. "You don't think the Malfoys will be there?" he asked.

"They won't," Danielle said with surety, and the boy seemed to relax. "They make you uncomfortable?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you got along with Draco." Tristan shrugged.

"I guess. I don't know."

Danielle narrowed her eyes, feeling something off.

"Has one of them hurt you?" she asked suspiciously, and Tristan shook his head.

"I'd just rather not have to deal with Draco," he said, sounding more sure than he did before. "He's been a pain lately." Danielle nodded, squeezing his shoulder, and the boy gave him a small smile. "I'll be glad to see Sirius," he continued. "He said he had something for me, but he didn't want to give it to me at the wedding."

Severus walked into the room, holding a file box that probably held several scrolls. For all their magic, Danielle thought, wizards sure had inefficient ways to handle things that involved writing. Parchment and quills, despite their fancy look when used correctly, lost their novelty awhile ago in Danielle's eyes.

"Tristan, you can floo ahead. Danielle, I'm assuming you'd rather travel with me?" Severus asked, and Danielle nodded. She couldn't manage the floo network alone. The floo powder didn't respond to her commands, so Severus would need to call it out, and even though she _could_ manage to make it to the correct fireplace, it was always hard to pull herself out. Severus was sure that, given enough time, it would spit her out at the correct hearth no matter what, but to Danielle, it felt like a huge effort to not be trapped in what felt like a strange reality.

Floo traveling was _not_ designed for muggle use.

Tristan had disappeared into the hall by the time they arrived at headquarters and she could smell the rich smells of meat and vegetables and fat. The smell turned her stomach a bit, but thankfully, she hadn't puked in a few weeks; the food, once in her, would probably settle her stomach rather than upset it. With all the worry, she had forgotten to eat since the morning.

"Just in time!" Danielle heard Molly say as she entered the room. "Welcome! I made a dinner that will be very good for baby," she said, taking Danielle's hand and patting her slightly-showing stomach, and she had to quell her annoyance. Leading them into the kitchen, Danielle looked around as she walked. Tristan had described the house as gloomy and oppressive, but Danielle found she liked the narrow halls. It felt comforting to her.

The kitchen, Danielle decided as they entered, was far less welcoming in her mind. The long table was packed with people, far less space between everyone than seemed cozy, with a bit of space in the center on the right and a bit more, if not much, near the end. Despite her hunger, she debated turning around and finding food when everyone had left. Severus seemed to notice her threat to flee, though, and guided her to the very end of the table, pressing on her shoulders a bit to convince her to sit, and he sat next her her, Tristan following suit. Sirius and Remus were directly across from them, and Tonks gave her a toothy smile.

As dinner went under way, Danielle kept her eyes on her plate, listening to the talk around her.

"Tristan, I'm told you made prefect this year," Sirius said.

"Yeah," he answered, and Danielle saw him glance at Severus.

"Have you made any improvements in Defense?" Remus asked, and it was a moment before Tristan answered. Danielle looked up to see Tristan blushing.

"No," he said quietly.

"I believe the students have a defense club," Remus pushed. "Have you considered joining?"

Danielle noticed the younger Weasley boy – Ron, she thought – glaring down the table at the mention. Even just working in the library, Danielle knew of the rivalries between houses. They did seem to vary by age level, but Slytherin and Gryffindor seemed to be at odds no matter the year.

Tristan shrugged. "I don't think they let Slytherins in," Tristan said quietly, and Severus tensed.

"Nonsense," Remus said. "You're the son of an Order member, I'm sure you'd be welcome. Right Hermione?" he asked. By then, nearly half the table was listening to the conversation.

"Right," Hermione said hesitantly, despite Ron appearing to elbow her. "Of course you'd be allowed, Tristan." The girl, Ginny, didn't look entirely pleased at the prospect either.

"See? I'm sure the extra practice will help a lot."

Ron mumbled something incomprehensible from their distance, but his mother heard.

"Ronald Weasley!" she shouted. "You will show respect at the dinner table!"

The rest of dinner, at least at their end of the table, was tense, and Danielle was glad when dishes were gathered, and the children were sent from the room. Danielle stood to leave.

"You're more than welcome to stay," Arthur Weasley said, but Danielle shook her head.

"I'd rather not," she answered quietly, and Severus gave her a nod. He probably assumed she had too much of company, which _was_ true, but at the same time, Danielle had no interest in joining the war. She had her own share of horror, enough to fill her own war, and a baby to care for besides. The last thing she wanted was for someone to think she could I _do_ something.

"We'll talk after the meeting," Tonks said in a whisper to her as she left. "I have something I want to talk to you about."

* * *

The meeting seemed to last forever, despite the book she was reading; Tristan begged off to the room he occupied previously, and the rest of the children weren't particularly quiet, leaving Danielle unsettled in a sitting room near the kitchen, not sure which room they were to use. She gave up trying to read and spent the time trying to meditate. It helped, sometimes. Helped her feel as if she was still in control of her life and not some pathetic excuse for a muggle in a wizarding world.

Danielle _knew_ she would feel better someday, she wasn't going to let her self keep falling, but that day seemed a very long way away.

Tonks finally came in, and Danielle eyed her with uncertainty.

"Hullo," she said in a subdued kind of cheerfulness, sitting next to Danielle on the sofa in a clumsy motion.

"Hi," she answered. They sat in silence for a moment before Tonks spoke up.

"I'll just get right to it, yeah? I know we haven't talked much, even though we did meet at the wedding, so you're probably wondering what we have to talk about . . ." Tonks said, her tone a bit too cheerful from just coming away from an Order meeting. "But I think we have loads."

Danielle nodded hesitantly and waited for her to continue. Tonks, though, seemed to be waiting for her to answer.

"You're married to Remus, right?"

"Yep," she answered. "Took a lot to convince him, though. He had _all_ these excuses. I was _too young_ , he wasn't _good_ enough for me because of his _condition_ . . . you know about that?"

Danielle nodded.

"Well, he finally got past all that, and I probably have you and . . . Severus to thank for it. You're younger than me, and Remus is about Severus' age, so he couldn't use _that_ as an excuse anymore. And I have Fleur to thank for Remus' acceptance of marrying me even though he was a werewolf. She overheard us arguing over it and went into a whole speech on how it wouldn't matter to _her_ if Bill was a werewolf because she loved him no matter what happens to him. And, well . . . men don't argue with Fleur."

"Fleur?"

"Bill's wife. She's part veela. Men sort of . . . follow her word. I _should_ be annoyed about it, but it worked in my favor, I guess."

Tonks' rambling died off and they sat quietly until Danielle had to slide over a bit on the sofa.

"Anyway, I just found out I'm pregnant," she said quietly. "Don't tell anyone yet, though, it's still early, but I'm excited someone else in the Order is having a child, too. We should try to keep in touch. And not all this meeting stuff. We should get to know each other better."

Danielle smiled, understanding Tonks' invasion a bit better.

"Yeah," Danielle answered. "I'd like that." Tonks took a deep breath in and stood.

"I should get going. You should see how much paperwork I have piled up. It's ridiculous," she said shaking her head. "I'll owl you?"

* * *

Dinner the next night was just as nerve wracking, but in a completely different way. Sirius, as nice as he thought he was being, made them a reservation in a nice, out of the way restaurant where Death Eaters wouldn't be expecting them to be, and a room at a hotel for a couple days. The restaurant wasn't crowded when they arrived, at least, and Danielle knew no one could have followed them through the floos they traveled though, but leaving the safety of a warded dwelling wasn't going to make for a 'relaxing evening'.

False names and glamours seemed to be of little protection in Danielle's mind, but, really, Severus didn't seem worried one bit.

"There are several people ready to apparate in if there appears to be danger," Severus reminded her as she tried to decide what to eat.

"I'm fine," Danielle said. "I _know_. I'm not sure what to order, though." She knew he didn't believe her, claiming to simply be undecided, but thankfully, he let the matter drop. The longer they were there, the more she should relax, she reasoned. She _would_ enjoy the night out.

"We will have one visitor this evening, though," Severus bit out a bit gruffly. "I want to warn you, but not worry you. She is trustworthy," he continued quickly.

"Order?" Danielle asked hesitantly, and Severus gave a shake of his head. " _Them_?" she whispered. The group that Severus made a deal with for access to information that saved Tristan's life.

"Yes," Severus said. "Helita said she had important information, and this was the best time to talk with her." Danielle didn't bother saying it would have been better if he had made the meeting for the _end_ of their trip; she knew Severus didn't want the deal to be general knowledge among the Order, and those that already knew swore to keep it secret.

Putting it out of her mind, Danielle chose her courses just as the waiter came to their table, and it wasn't until near the end that a woman casually sat at their table, setting wards around them with the wave of a want. Danielle watched the swirling colors box them in, a strange pink and orange and green combination, and wondered what she cast. The colors were unfamiliar to her, but didn't seem hazardous. They almost seemed relaxing.

"Helita," Severus greeted.

"Severus," she said. "Congratulations on your new position. And your marriage," she said, turning her head toward Danielle. She looked at the woman and gave her a polite smile, trying to old back the uncomfortable feeling of interest Helita seemed to have for her. She went to face Severus again, and Danielle went back to watching the wards, wondering what would happen if she were to put her hand through them. "We suspect that you-know-who has plans for taking over the ministry," she said flatly. "In the correct order of business, if that were to happen, Hogwarts would fall to his power, also."

"I would not be welcome there, in that case," Severus said, and Danielle pulled herself away from the hypnosis.

"I would gather not," she continued. "But we already have plans in place to remove Hogwarts from Ministry control and it should occur within the next few months. By January at the latest. I am hoping that you-know-who's plans would not fall into place before them. Thankfully, with you as Headmaster, the transition should go rather smoothly."

Danielle watched as Severus took in a deep breath. "And whose control would Hogwarts be under?" Severus asked.

"A newly established company,'" she said calmly. "You don't need to know more than that, we just wanted you to be ready for the change." Helita glanced back over at her. "I am curious to hear any plans you might have for the school, though. First Slytherin Headmaster is a long time, married to a muggle . . . later, though." She turned her attention to Danielle. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. It's Danielle, right? I'm Helita."

"Hello," she answered, wondering at the sudden change of attention and poking at her dessert with her fork. Helita didn't seem dangerous, but Danielle was learning that she wasn't too fond of people who wanted to control others' lives.

"What are you looking at, Danielle?" Helita asked, and Danielle paused.

"What?"

"You've been watching something since I've arrived," she answered.

"Helita-" Severus interrupted.

"No, I want to know."

"Helita, don't push her," her husband warned, but Helita ignored him and continued to watch her. She looked back, not liking how the woman's attention, although directed toward her, was more akin to a snake watching a mouse. Swallowing, she looked at Severus, who looked more annoyed than anything.

Danielle took in a deep breath. It couldn't hurt . . .

"I'm just watching the magic," she said quietly, putting down her fork. When she looked up, Severus was giving her a look. A look that said he didn't understand.

"Perhaps it is time to finish the night," Severus said suddenly, moving to stand.

"No, Severus," Helita said, still looking at Danielle. "What does the magic look like?"

"Colors," she answered, wanting to be done with the conversation. "Isn't that what it is supposed to look like?"

"Spells and hexes can have colors when they come concentrated from the wand," Helita told her, "but most magic is invisible to the eye. What colors are the wards around us?"

"Orange, pink and green."

"Interesting," she answered, a look on her face Danielle couldn't read. "Very interesting. Could you do me a favor? Write a list of colors you see with some spells? As comprehensive of a list as you can, if you please."

Danielle looked at Severus, who's expression had closed off as he stared at Helita. Looking back at the woman hesitantly, Danielle nodded, and Helita stood up.

"I believe I will be in contact with you soon," she said. "I will have to visit Hogwarts to write a report for the upcoming changes. We'll talk then. I haven't heard of anything like this before." She took a closer look at Danielle's eyes before stepping back.

"Good bye, Severus. I've stayed longer than I intended."

Severus didn't answer as she turned, took down the wards and left.

"Can we go to our room?" Danielle asked, and Severus looked back at her.

"Yes. Black paid for the food in advance, so we can just leave."

Up in their room, Danielle sat on the bed, finding the room a bit too warm for her liking. "Can we make it cooler in here?" she asked.

"You _see_ magic?" Severus asked, staring at her. "As _colors?_ "

"I . . . don't you?" Danielle asked. "You're a wizard. I just thought it distracted me more because I'm a muggle."

"No, I don't," Severus said, sitting down next to her. He lit the end of his wand and looked closer at her eyes. "I wonder if this is what the Dark Lord was doing. I suppose being able to see magic, you could identify even a wordless spell?"

Danielle didn't answer right away. "Helita," she said instead.

"I don't trust her with you," Severus said. "I made a deal with her that had nothing to do with you."

"I don't think she's going to hurt me," Danielle told him. "What if she could find out what he did to me? If he made me to see magic . . . maybe he did something else, too."

"I can do that, now that I have something to work on," Severus said flatly, and Danielle didn't argue. "Danielle, are you sure he never mentioned anything about what he was doing to you when you were with him?"

Danielle shook her head, looking away. "He said the occasional spell, I guess, but I can't remember what he said."

"I could look into your memories-"

"No! Look, I'd rather not know than _relive_ what happened," Danielle said forcefully. And it wasn't the first time she told him.

"If we know why he wanted you originally, it could help us keep you _safe_ from him. You don't leave Hogwarts, even to go to Hogsmede, and you won't even tell me what you truly went through."

"Because I don't want to think about it!" Danielle said. "I'm doing _fine_ without talking about it. I don't need you harassing me about! I don't need you trying to _fix_ it!"

Severus _nox_ ed his wand wand, letting his arm drop to his side and standing slowly.

"Alright, I won't," was all Severus harshly said before walking to the bathroom and closing the door, a bit harder than necessary. Danielle stared after him, not sure what that meant.

After about five minutes, Danielle heard water running. The shower. Half an hour later, the shower was still going, making her nervous. Severus never took extended time in the bathroom, and the fact that he was now was unsettling. Did he take what she said too far? Did he think she meant more than just wanting to to lay off about asking her about how she had been tortured by a mad man and his cronies?

Time passed, and Danielle had to stand. _Should I knock_? Danielle wondered. _Should I just go in to make sure he didn't slip in the tub or something?_ Which he couldn't have. She would have heard something had he fallen, which meant he was taking a long time for something other reason.

Going to the window, she tried to opened it, but couldn't. It was probably spelled to open with the touch of a wand, and Danielle couldn't help but pace the room. She needed air.

It would be stupid to go outside, she thought, but really, it couldn't hurt _much_ could it? She was under a glamour. No one would be expecting her to really be her, not including Helita, but she already left. And she _really_ needed fresh air. The room was much too warm, and, it being a wizarding hotel _,_ there was no thermostat to adjust it.

She needed air.

She left the room, taking the closest three flights of stairs down. It ended in a door, thankfully, and she found herself outside, seeing the water in the distance. Was it the sea? Sitting down on the sidewalk, Danielle took a deep breath, leaning up against the building. She would rather be at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was safe. She was never so nervous there that she spoke without meaning to, even when Severus pushed her.

Looking down at her belly, she rubbed it a bit, wondering when she'd feel the first kick. She was showing a little, now, but not enough that anyone would notice if she was wearing robes, and she realized she was going to have to buy some maternity clothes soon. And baby clothes, before the war got too far and it would even less safe to go to the shops. Perhaps she could go here, in whatever town they were in. The thought of their last outing to Diagon Alley wasn't especially calming.

Poor Tristan. That kid, she thought, was never going to have it easy.

"Well, we seem to have a cutie here," a voice said, slightly slurred, from somewhere off to her right, outside the lit area she was in.

"A young little poppet," another man said in a rasp voice while Danielle stood as quick as she could, realizing the door was not going to answer to her. She didn't take one of the keys with her, she realized too late, and she was going to have to walk to the front of the building. Making her decision, she started walking in opposite direction of the voices, following the building to guide her through the dark, but one of the men caught up to her, grabbing her arm. His grip was tight enough it was probably going to bruise, but she tried to tear it away anyway. "Don't go fighting, now, pretty witch," the man said. "We're just traveling through, we'll be done with you in a bit. Not that you'll remember, anyway."

"Did you at least check for a wand?" the other man slurred as he caught up. The first man's grip tightened while he searched not too politely.

"No wand?" he asked. "Have I managed to find myself a muggle? Well, I suppose this is a mostly muggle village," he continued. "Even better, I say," he said before lowering his voice. "I heard the muggle ones like it a bit rough."

* * *

It felt like too long before another voice entered. By then, all Danielle could do was struggle and keep them as far away from her as possible.

It turned out someone had reported suspicious behavior to the muggle police. The hotel, she learned, was mostly wizard, but they had a few muggle rooms, too, because most of their business in the small town _was_ muggle. By the time they arrested the men and finished questioning her, it felt as if hours had gone by.

And where was Severus?

When they finally let her leave, one of the police men walked her to the front of the building, asking again if she was sure she didn't want the medic to bring her to the hospital, but she shook her head and made her way to her room. Standing outside the door without a key, she realized she was going to have to knock.

What was Severus doing?

She did knock, and it was a few moments before Severus opened the door.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Outside," she said quietly. "Alone? All this time?"

Danielle felt tears start to form in her eyes as she walked towards the bed and she heard Severus close the door as she lay down.

"Are you okay? What happened? Severus asked as he sat next to her.

"There were a few guys," Danielle said so quietly, she wasn't sure she heard herself. "The police came before they could do . . . anything much, but . . ."

It reminded her too much of Malfoy. When she had closed her eyes, it had felt as if she were struggling to get away from Lucius, only Lucius used magic to restrain her, and was often more cruel about it.

"St. Mungos -" Severus started to say, but Danielle shook her head.

"I'm fine," she told him. "I'll have some bruises tomorrow, but they didn't go near my stomach, and I don't want to go to the hospital because of a few bruises you can give me a potion for. Poppy can check me over when we go back in a few days."

"Are you sure?" Severus asked, laying down next to her, putting a hand on her arm, and Danielle nodded.

"I just want to go to sleep," she said. "Don't leave," she added when Severus made to move.

"I won't," Severus answered. "Just sleep."


	35. Chapter 34 - Stolen

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for the reviews. In order to get the story 'back on track', I moved back some of the things I was planning on putting in the first term of the year to the second term (should fit in okay enough, even with what's coming up) and continuing with what's happening in January. (Basically skipping first term. Nothing much exciting happens up through December, now that's it's moved to second term anyway). I think the timing is working out better anyway, even skipping 3 months.**

 **My longest chapter to date, because I already had the last parts written for awhile and didn't want to cut anything out, so :)**

 **Oh, I said this forever ago, but I'm still collecting ideas for one shots, kind of behind the scene stuff that wouldn't push the plot here forward, but people still want to read. I've had a few requests so far, and though I haven't actually written any of them yet, I've started outlining them. PM me or whatever if there's something from this universe you'd like to read, and I'll see if it fits enough to fit it into a oneshot. Thanks, and enjoy!**

 **Chapter 34 - Stolen**

Harry added more sugar to his tea and stirred, even though it was sweet enough two spoonfuls ago. He wasn't particularly in the mood for tea. Or for talking. Snape, on the other hand, was insisting on both, and he was pretty sure his father spiked the tea with some potion or other.

"Lupin said you went to one DA meeting the entire term," Snape said after the long pause that followed their talk about Harry's last appointment with his healer. Basically: " _We're still looking into ways to fix you._ " Sirius had finally come up with a potion that took the edge off the pain in his leg, but as to _fixing_ anything . . . Harry was doubtful, and he was fine as long as everyone didn't make him _think_ about it. "I was under the assumption you were going to every meeting," Snape continued, and Harry kept quiet. "Will I get an answer from you, or will I have to work on my own assumptions?"

Harry couldn't answer. He _didn't_ have an answer. Well, he _did_ , but it was one Snape wouldn't like.

"Your wand still isn't working well for Defense, OWLs are at the end of the year, and you would be first in your class if it wasn't for your abysmal wand work in Defense," Snape said slowly. Dangerously. Harry refused to look up from his teacup. " _I've_ worked with you, _Lupin's_ worked with you, and you were supposed to be going to that club every week for extra practice. Even with a wand that originally had an affinity for the Dark Arts, once you stopped practicing, all the work you've done with Defense should have started to convince it to behave for Defense." Snape paused. "Should I continue?"

"I _have_ been practicing Defense," Harry said defensively. "No one wants me at the DA, why should I go? I've been practicing on my own. I bet I know _more_ Defense spells than anybody at that club!"

"You may _know_ the spells, but your attempts at casting are pathetic. Your wand would not be giving you so much trouble if you were abstaining from practicing the Dark Arts," Snape said, his voice giving away that his anger was building. Harry wasn't about to give in, though. He wouldn't admit it.

"You don't know that," Harry said. "You're not an expert on wands!"

"But I've been researching," Snape snapped. "I've been trying to _help_ you, and you've been practicing the Dark Arts behind my back!"

Harry couldn't bring himself to lie to Snape. It was such a peculiar feeling; he still felt like he _should_ be able to lie to Snape about it. It wasn't really the man's business, was it? Harry needed every bit of defense he could get against Voldemort, especially since he was pathetic lately.

"At least you're not denying it to my face," Snape said flatly, then paused for a minute. "I've been thinking about how I can correct this behavior. The Dark Arts is very addictive, even if you believe you have it under control. I _don't_ believe that." His father held out his hand, as if waiting to be given something. "You will give me your wand. You will be allowed to have it during classes, and when you are supervised by myself, Lupin or Black."

"I'm not giving you my wand!" Harry yelled. "What if I need it? And what about my projects?"

"You may work on your projects if you visit me," Snape said smugly, "given they aren't based on magic you shouldn't be practicing." Harry let go of his spoon and crossed his arms as he sat back.

"What if someone attacks me?"

"No one is going to attack you here at Hogwarts," Snape said, actually sounding like he was actually trying to console Harry despite his anger. "With all the current defenses I have in place, in addition to the house elves that are keeping an eye on all suspicious activity, you are safe here. If we leave Hogwarts, I will give you back your wand for the duration."

"But-"

"No!" Snape snapped, hitting the desk. "You will give me your wand." Snape held out his hand again, and Harry glared at him. He wouldn't. He _wouldn't_ admit it.

"Regular Defense won't help me much against _him_ ," Harry said, unable to stop himself. "I've _seen_ what spells he uses, what he'd use on _me_ if he got me. I wouldn't be able to defense against that with what we learn in _class_ ," he continued, aware he sounded like he was whining.

"You will not _win_ against the Dark Lord using the Dark Arts," Snape told him harshly. Harry sat there, continuing to glare at the man he had begun thinking of as his father. Snape took a deep breath. "A few years ago, you would have despised even the _idea_ of learning the Dark Arts, and now you are arguing with me in _favor_ of them?"

Harry didn't answer, the feeling overcoming him that he _has_ become that nasty Slytherin he once despised.

 _But no_ , Harry thought. "I don't _hurt_ anyone. I'm not _mean_ to anyone. The Gryffindors hate me right now because I broke up with Ginny, even though _she's_ the one who started dating me because of a _bet_ , not because I'm like _Malfoy_!"

"If you keep practicing, it will be second nature to use the Dark Arts. You could hurt someone without meaning to. You could hurt someone without even _realizing_ you hurt them!"

"I wouldn't hurt someone who wasn't trying to kill me," Harry said flatly. "I don't think the Dark Arts are _fun_ , they're useful to protect myself! _You_ used the Dark Arts to _save my life_ , what's the difference."

"Plenty," he hissed. " _I_ know my limits with the Dark Arts because of the mistakes _I_ made when I was younger. _You_ seem to not understand the _dangers_."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone!"

"You're hurting yourself. Give. Me. Your. Wand."

Harry glared at Snape for a few more moments before reaching into his robe and handing Snape his wand. He felt empty and he could feel heat behind his eyes.

 _I won't cry_ , he thought to himself. Snape stood.

"Come," the man said, pocketing Harry's wand.

"Where are we going?" he asked hesitantly as Snape helped him up and handed him his cane.

"You are going to give me all materials you currently have on the Dark Arts and then you are going to start a 20 foot essay on the dangers of practicing the Dark Arts."

"Twenty feet?" Harry asked, incredulous. Would he even be able to think of enough to put in it?

"Don't worry, you'll have the rest of the holiday to complete it. I'll even lend you materials you can use," Snape said with a certain air about his voice. He didn't answer, wondering how he could not give Snape his notes. In his room, though, Snape went through _everything_ , and all Harry could do was watch him search through everything, despondent. Up until then, Snape had no _proof_ that he was studying the Dark Arts – because he wasn't _practicing_ , like Snape thought he was practicing, he was _learning_ so he could survive – and he didn't know what exactly Harry had been doing. He didn't want Snape to find those papers, and with every minute, the man was getting closer and closer to where Harry kept his notes.

By the time Snape found the notes, hidden beneath a pile of junk in his dresser drawer, Harry was sitting on his bed, arms folded around his legs, feeling hopeless as he watched Snape skim through them with a blank face.

"In addition to the essay," Snape said dangerously, still not looking at Harry as he looked through the parchments, "you have forfeited all Hogsmede trips and will have detention with me twice a week for the rest of the school year."

"What?" Harry said. "Why?"

"I am aware that this isn't a school matter, so the detentions will be punishments in relation to . . . a _grounding._ " Harry knew better than to argue. Snape hadn't sounded that angry with him since . . . a very long time. But more than that, it seemed like Snape wasn't just _angry_. Disappointed, maybe. Feeling his eyes begin to burn again, Harry rubbed at his eyes, annoyed with the heavy glasses that always seemed to get in the way. "Extra chores, not that I give you any to begin with. You have _lied_ to me. You have deliberately led me to believe that you were _not_ practicing the Dark Arts, and I find you have more comprehensive notes than the majority of your average Dark Wizards would know."

Snape paused.

"Do you have anything you would like to say for yourself?" Snape snapped, and Harry shook his head. He was sorry that Snape was angry with him, but not that he had learned what he needed to defend himself. He _knew_ it was important.

Snape shook his head, then continued bitterly. "I'd tell you that you were to be confined to your room, but as I've learned I can no longer trust your judgment – nor your word – you will spend your waking hours in the kitchen. First, doing your essay. If you finish before classes start again, I will find other work for you to do." Snape paused again, this time taking the time to look at Harry, anger clearly written on his face. All Harry could feel was numbness at that point. "Downstairs, _now_ ," Snape snapped, and Harry stood, wiping his tears again.

* * *

Harry sat in the hospital room chair, hearing Snape and Danielle argue about 'talking' again, but not really listening. They would do this every so often, not talk for awhile, then pretend it never happened. Christmas had been horrible; Snape had decided that Harry wasn't going to be allowed to open any of his presents until his essay was finished. As it were, he was two feet in and already having trouble coming up with anything other than people getting hurt.

Also, Snape seemed to have told Professor Lupin, in addition to Sirius, of his dabbling, and both a deemed it necessary to lecture him. On _Christmas_. At least, it seemed, Snape hadn't told Danielle, or if he had, she hadn't said anything about it.

A few days later, Danielle was in labor, they were at St. Mungos, and Snape had been too distracted to listen to him asking for his wand. To make matters even worse, now Snape was going to be too irritated for a couple hours to pay any mind to Harry at all, and he kept having a feeling that something was going to come out of nowhere and attack him.

"I have business to attend to, if you are so sure you don't _need me_ ," Snape snapped at her suddenly and turned to leave. "Stay with her. If I hear from Black or Lupin that you have been anywhere but here or the waiting room, you will _not_ want to hear what additional punishments I can add on," he barked at Harry, and Harry just gave a nod as Snape left the room. He went back to trying to read the Daily Prophet; there wasn't anything particularly interesting, but he hadn't seen a copy in months.

It wasn't until the third page that there was anything worth mentioning, and it had nothing to do with the war or Voldemort or anything like that: "Two men are opening a game and toy shop in Hogsmede," Harry told Danielle.

"Severus said you were grounded from Hogsmede," Danielle warned him.

"Just for the school year," he mumbled, standing to show her the article. "But they'll have baby toys, too, it says." He gave her the paper. "It's the article under the picture of the two men in front of the shop," he told her and she looked it over with mild interest before a frown formed on her face.

"I know them," she mumbled, and Harry looked at her curiously. Danielle really didn't know anyone outside of the Order.

"From where?" Harry asked as she handed the paper back to him, but she shook her head.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," she said quietly, distracted. "But if you see your dad before I do, let him know I need to talk to him."

"He'll be back soon," Harry told her. "The baby's coming real soon, right?"

She smiled but one of the Healers poked her head in before Danielle could answer. "Tristan, kid, why don't you go to the waiting room with the rest?" she asked. "Your mother is getting close, and she'd probably like the quiet."

Harry looked at Danielle, who just smiled at him again. "I'll be fine," she told him. "Go spend some time with your godfather. I think he said something about bringing a few games with him."

A few hours later, Harry was sitting in the waiting room alone. Remus had been called back to Hogwarts by Professor McGonagall, Sirius went to find them some food, and he hadn't even seen Snape come back, unless he came another way.

And he _still_ didn't have his wand. He considered stopping by Danielle's room to see how she was doing, but the thought of her giving birth made him feel even more uncomfortable than he was.

 _Where_ was Sirius? Harry wondered. He didn't know how much time had passed, but it seemed an incredibly long time to go down one floor and buy already-made food. Long enough that Harry was about to accept the consequences of leaving the waiting room in order to find him.

As he stood, the world went dark.

* * *

Severus ushered the wizard out of his office, insisting that it was not a good moment to be discussing the dissolution of the School Board as they knew it. The man, Wilkin, insisted he still wished to be on the board, but had wanted nothing to do with the company who had somehow managed to _buy_ Hogwarts. Severus himself wasn't particular happy about it, but as he knew the protection it would buy from the Ministry were the Ministry overtaken, he didn't argue a point.

"You _must_ see this is the wrong direction for the school, Headmaster!" the man argued as he continued to walk him down the stairs.

"Change is not a bad thing, Wilkin. Now, I do have other, more pressing matters I must attend to."

Out in the corridor, the wizard finally parted, only to have Minerva come running down the corridor towards him.

"Severus!" Minerva yelled when she was a bit closer. "Arthur just said the Ministry has fallen!"

"What!?"

"They did it as quiet as they could. They must have managed to infiltrate the Ministry months ago, but they started to thin out anyone who does not have two magical parents this morning!" she hissed when the distance between them closed. "Arthur is still there, keeping an eye on things, but if they've taken over the Ministry, they'll try to take over."

"They won't be able to, we've made sure of that," Severus told her.

"We, who? I'm your Deputy-"

"Minerva, there's no time. The company who took over Hogwarts has been in contact with me for awhile. They wanted to be sure that, in times of war, students would still be able to learn without having to worry too much on the dangers of the outside . . ."

"No ward is fool-proof, Severus," Minerva hissed.

"No, but it'll be safer here, than anywhere else. Contact the parents of all students immediately, starting with the muggleborns. Students and their families will be given refuge here if they wish it, but I must go, _now_ ," Severus told her.

"Severus do you know how many people that would be?"

"Hogwarts has the space," he told her, and she nodded, but still didn't let him pass. "I _must go_." Severus needed to get back to St. Mungos. Black or Lupin would have informed him had something gone wrong, but he felt bad enough that he left her there, alone.

"Arthur said that if Danielle goes into labor, she should stay at Hogwarts. I've already informed Poppy," Minerva said, taking a step back, but Severus stared at her dumbly for a moment, his heart stopping.

"When did he tell you this?" he asked slowly, his own voice sounding distant to his ears.

"Ten minutes ago, approximately," she said. "What's the matter?"

"Danielle and Tristan have been at St. Mungos for the last few hours," Severus managed to bite out. " _I must go_."

"Severus!" Minerva yelled after him, but didn't follow him back up to his office. In the back of his mind, he hoped that she followed his instructions with the students' families, but he spent no more time thinking about it as he stumbled through the floo to the hospital.

The hospital was quiet as usual when he stepped through, and nothing seemed amiss as he walked through the halls and to the lift that would bring him to the correct floor. The receptionist greeted him kindly, healers walked by distracted and children looked bored.

He was overreacting, he thought. Black or Lupin would have told him if anything had happened, or if anything suspicious occurred. St. Mungos was not directly controlled by the Ministry and it would take more than a few hours to direct their attention from their overtake their to trying to influence the hospital.

He hoped.

By the time he arrived in the waiting room to _not_ find Black, Lupin or Tristan, Severus' heart started racing again. By the time he made it to Danielle's room to find it empty he was positive his heart was giving out.

"Where's my wife?" Severus managed to hiss out to a healer passing by. "Where's my _son_?" The healer looked at his questioningly.

"Room 4126?" he asked kindly. "I haven't heard about a room transfer on this floor, but I'll look it up quickly if you follow me to the main desk."

"Sirius Black was with them, surely you've seen him?" Severus pressed, barely able to stop himself from hexing the man to move faster.

"I saw him earlier, yes. Not recently, though. Charlotte, do you know where room 4126 was transferred to?"

"The Snapes?" she asked. "They haven't been moved," she said calmly, but her tone was off; different than earlier. More confused, more relaxed. "I just checked on them a moment ago. Sweet little baby boy," she hummed.

"They aren't there now," the healer said. "The room's empty, there was no light."

"Sure they're there," she told them. "They haven't gone anywhere." The healer turned to him.

"I'm sorry about this, Headmaster," the man said. "I don't know what's wrong with her."

"She's been confunded," Severus snapped. "The hospital needs to be searched, they could be in danger."

The healer was hesitant to believe Severus' reasoning, but couldn't deny the missing patient was an issue that needed to be taken care of and ordered hospital security to search for them while Severus contacted the Order, having trouble casting any of the spells that would get him in contact with them.

By the time Tonks arrived, Black and Lupin had been found unconscious in different spots in the hospital, but Danielle, Tristan and – if the birth had already taken place – the baby were no where to be found.

Two of the nurses who were supposed to be on shift were apparently missing, too, and Severus couldn't help the fleeting feeling that he was going to kill them if they had been involved in any way.

It wasn't until the small group of Order members were gathered in Severus' office did he realize that Tristan's wand was still in his pocket.

He never gave the boy his only way to defend his family.

* * *

Harry was freezing cold when he woke, but his first thought was that he could see, which meant he still had his glasses. Opening his eyes, he started when he found himself staring at an unfamiliar face.

A unfamiliar, partially decomposed face. He was sure the only thing keeping his stomach under control was the torture Harry had seen Voldemort put people through.

Actually, he thought through a clouded mind, the face did look slightly familiar. The stone wall behind him . . . he recognized the stone that had a huge gash it in.

But from where? The floor was too rough to be Hogwarts . . .

It slowly it him. A man Voldemort had killed with a blood-draining curse. A wizard they were going to torture for information, but with his struggles, they killed him instead.

The man they never managed to disarm because he had been putting up such a struggle physically, his wand a barely noticeable imprint under his robes. One that Harry only notice because he had been looking for details to focus on to keep him occluding during the horrors that were his visions; Occluding might have kept Voldemort out of _his_ head, but nothing kept Harry from watching out of Voldemort's eyes when the monster was particularly happy or angry. Harry wasn't sure what was worse.

Harry tried to get himself to focus. He was cold, his mind was moving slower than frozen pumpkin juice – which he realized belatedly that pumpkin juice frozen wouldn't move – and he had no idea what happened. The last thing he remembered was being at St. Mungos, waiting for Sirius to come back.

 _Sirius!_ Harry sat up quickly, too quickly, and looked around at where he was and the fear started to settle in when he saw he was with Danielle – unconscious? Dead? – in a stone cell, bars on one side.

"Danielle!" Harry called and started crawling to her.

"You'll be pleased my Lord," a female voice said, from what sounded like down the hall. "We got the girl and the baby, but we managed to capture Snape's brat, too." She sounded gleeful. "He's a rather careless boy, it seems. Didn't even bother to have a wand on him. Unless he doesn't have any magic, either," she laughed.

Harry stopped crawling, making a snap decision as the footsteps drew nearer. Going back to the body he woke up near, Harry cringed as he reached into the decaying man's robes, hoping that it _was_ a wand he had noticed in the vision and that the Death Eaters wouldn't bother searching a dead man.

Harry found himself relieved as he pulled out the slender, light colored length of wood and roughly put the wand inside his robes, hoping they wouldn't bother searching him a second time. His movements, along with his mind, didn't seem like they were cooperating.

"I wonder at your choice of cell," Voldemort said smoothly. "The flooded ones would have been a bit more uncomfortable."

"Ah, but the dead bodies! I couldn't resist. A little taste of their future, my Lord!"

Harry started backing up at their approach until he hit the wall, glancing at Danielle's body. If he concentrated, he could see breathing.

Maybe.

"Move the girl to the baby's room for now," he said slowly. "You have warded it sufficiently, and she'll be of use to care for the child."

"I can care for the child, my Lord," the woman said, and Harry cringed. Whoever this woman was, he did not want her near his brother.

"I need you to mind the trap for Severus Snape, Bellatrix," Voldemort continued. "I trust you to get him to me alive."

"I will honor your trust, my Lord, as I have done with your treasured possession," she said, sickeningly sweet, and Harry could almost imagine the owner of the voice bowing.

"Good. I will talk with the boy before I leave. Bring him to me."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix said. One of the footsteps started back the other direction, while the other came closer. Harry tried to focus his attention on the details of the wall and the dead man, knowing he could use that to occlude and not give anything away. Danielle, he hoped, would be fine if they were going to have her take care of the baby, but he knew he needed to look for an escape.

He would talk with Voldemort. They would put him back in the cell and Harry would use the wand to escape, find Danielle and the baby and . . .

Harry didn't know how he was going to get them out of there. Maybe he just needed to last long enough for Snape to come and find them, but if it was a trap . . . If Voldemort was leaving, he'd need to stop Bellatrix. Curse her or something so she couldn't trick Snape, and then Snape could apparate them out of there. Or Portkey. Or whatever way Snape would use to get them out of there, because Snape would have to have a plan before coming to find them, right?

Harry didn't feel confident about the plan. It was assuming Voldemort was going to put in back in the cell and wasn't going to find the wand.

He needed to occlude.

Assumption that Bellatrix was the only other witch here, but they could be anywhere. For all he knew, Voldemort had summoned all of his Death Eaters and they were all waiting for Snape to show up to kill him.

He needed to keep an eye out while Bellatrix brought him to see Voldemort.

He'd have to take his chances. Which probably weren't looking too good right now.

Bellatrix was getting close, and Harry resisted the urge to call out to Danielle again.

"Oh," she cackled as she came to the bars. "Ickle brat's awake, I see." She laughed, and Harry found himself floating, giving him no chance to stay away from her.

Bellatrix continued talking to herself and laughing on their way to where Voldemort was, but Harry ignored her in favor of focusing on occluding. By the time they arrived, a different place than he met Voldemort last time, Harry was absolutely terrified, but sort of confident that Voldemort wouldn't suspect him of trying to hide his thoughts.

Sort of.

Bellatrix roughly dropped him in front of a chair that Harry could only rightly call a throne. Voldemort was standing on the right side of it, watching him carefully. Still feeling cloudy and woozy, he was positive that his legs wouldn't hold him, and he could tell Sirius' potion was wearing off, so standing would be that much harder.

"Stand for your Lord, brat," Bellatrix said, using magic to hover him into a standing position, but as soon as the magic stopped, his legs gave way and he collapsed.

"Leave ussss, Bellatrix," Voldemort said slowly, and she bowed and took her leave. Voldemort watched him for a few moments before stepping forward. "Is the the result of the curse Bellatrix had thrown your way?" he asked him quietly. "Are you unable to stand on your own?"

"I . . . it was her that cursed me?" Harry asked quietly. Everyone had always refused to tell him who had done it.

"You're surprised?" Voldemort asked. "Tell me, can you stand?"

"Normally," Harry answered, trying to _not_ sound disrespectful. He kept telling himself he got through one of these chats with the snake, he could manage another. "Not right now," he continued, his voice even quieter. Being so helpless, at the feet of Voldemort, was the worse feeling he could imagine at the moment. Suddenly, a chair was under him and he was sitting, facing Voldemort, who made his way to his 'throne'.

Voldemort's glare drilled into him.

"How has your studies in the Dark Arts been going since your father has forsaken me?" Voldemort asked calmly, startling Harry.

Of all of the things Voldemort could have asked, he was not expecting that.

"Severus has denied you access to the Dark Arts?" Voldemort said, and Harry realized he let his shields down enough that Voldemort was able to guess. Harry thought better of lying.

"Yes . . . my Lord," Harry said quietly, wondering if he could use that to his advantage. "But I've managed to keep studying in secret," he said, finding his voice nearly a whisper, not quite looking at Voldemort.

The snake smiled, and Harry had to suppress a shudder.

"Do you approve of your father's decision to betray me?"

Harry found his voice unable to work to answer. He wasn't sure _how_ to answer.

"I don't know," Harry whispered. "I'm glad I'm not dead."

"Yessss, I imagine you would be. Look at me Tristan."

Harry forced himself to look at his captor, doing all he could to remember the details of the rocks of the cell.

"Are you happy, crippled? Unable to study something you have natural talent for?"

"No," Harry lied. Sort of lied. Well, he _wasn't_ happy that he couldn't walk, and Snape was being awfully unreasonable about the Dark Arts, wasn't he?

Harry wished his brain would start working; he couldn't concentrate on his occluding, much less staying focused on Voldemort.

"I could give you a lot of power, Tristan. Make you whole again. You are young, but you have a lot of talent. A lot of will to live." Voldemort paused. "If you prove yourself to me, I might even let you practice on Bellatrix. How would you like that? Cursing the woman who made you cripple?"

Harry found himself torn. Not that he wanted to join Voldemort, but . . . something inside of him felt something . . . joy? . . . at the thought of hurting Bellatrix. It was, perhaps, what Snape was trying to warn him of. The dangers of the Dark Arts, but knowing that didn't stop that craving feeling that Voldemort had sowed in him. A feeling that he never before felt as Harry Potter.

"I see my plan isn't as far fetched as I originally thought," Voldemort said, standing and walking close to him, sounding almost cheerful. "Harry Potter isn't the beacon of light everyone assumes," he continued, and Harry felt his breath catch. Had his occluding failed so completely? He tried to focus. Anything to get out of this haze. "Pledge your allegiance to me, Harry. I will give you everything you desire."

Harry couldn't stop the thought that Voldemort was lying, and he knew it. Voldemort straightened.

"It is of no matter," he decided, and with the flick of his wand, Harry found his hair shaved and in a clear bag in Voldemort's hand. "Potions and glamours don't interfere with Polyjuice." Before Harry could register what happened, he found himself collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain. _Crucio_ , Harry thought to himself, the feeling of pain being extremely slow to fade as Voldemort sat back in his thrown. "I must say, this is all going a lot better than even I could plan. Thank you, Harry. I must say, you did have me nearly fooled last time I talked with you." Harry, face down, slowly reached for the wand that was pinned between him and the ground. Perhaps all he needed was an element of surprise to kill Voldemort."You would have done well at my side. Still, I must keep you alive, now, when I had originally intended to kill you in front of Severus, so perhaps you'll change your mind after your punishment and your time." As quickly as he could manage, Harry tried to think of the worse curse he could think of. He knew quite a bit of them, but in the haze, he was having trouble thinking of one he felt was bad enough. He needed something that could _kill_. "I think I will still torture you before I kill Severus, at least. He will-"

" _Arcdominus_!" Harry yelled, finally freeing the wand and sending the curse in Voldemort's direction. " _Arcdominus_!" he cast again just in case. There was a roar from Voldemort's direction, and Harry tried to move to see what was going on, positioning the wand, trying to think of a strong binding curse, but the incantation refused to come to him, so he went with what he could remember: " _Petrific-_ "

Harry found himself suddenly curled into himself, bound by rough, grinding ropes that seemed intent on ripping into his skin.

"You are going to wish you were dead long before I kill you, Potter," Voldemort hissed next to his face before a sound of a bell donged all around him. "Bellatrix! Lock him up, but keep him alive! Snape will regret ever taking you in, _Tristan_ , before this is all over. _I will have him torturing you himself before I kill him_ ," Voldemort said to him.

* * *

Severus sat on his desk, reading the letter. Tonks, Black, and Lupin stood around him, waiting for him to say something. Black got tired of waiting.

"It's a trap," Black said. "You _can't_ go alone."

"Nevertheless, I must go," Severus snapped. "He has Danielle and Tristan."

"I'm going with," all three said at once.

"No," Severus barked at Black while Lupin pulled Tonks aside.

"He's my godson, I'm _going_. You can't make me stay. I saw the letter, same as you, I'll follow you if you leave me behind!"

"You're _not_ going because you _are_ his godfather, Black!" Snape yelled, pulling his wand. "I _will_ get them out, even if I don't make it myself, but someone will have to care of Tristan."

"Danielle-"

"Danielle would not be able to care for him alone, not after being back with the Dark Lord," Severus hissed. "Stay here. Help Poppy prepare, help Minerva get the students and their families back to Hogwarts. Tell her the school will stay safe if she continues to work with the new owners."

"You're not going alone," Remus told him. "I will go with you."

"No," Severus said, feeling calmer now that a plan was beginning to form in his mind. "I will go alone. With you, I wouldn't be able to sneak in." Black and Lupin realized at the same time what he was talking about.

"Of course you have it," Black said. "He said you kept it."

"Kept what? Severus, you _can't_ go alone. I've been trained for situations like this. You can't face the number of Death Eaters that will probably be waiting!"

"Severus, we have to tell her," Lupin said, looking at Severus straight in the eye. "She won't _tell anyone_."

"I didn't want _you_ to know," Severus snapped at him.

"Yes, but I do, and having someone in the Ministry know might help now that Albus is dead," Lupin snapped back. "You can't keep doing this alone."

"Yes, I can, if I _obliviate_ you both," Severus hissed, standing. After a minute, he threw up his hands, not wanting to waste time on arguing now that Tonks would probably insist now, knowing there was a secret she wasn't privy to.

"What?" Tonks asked as Severus turned to face the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who smiled and gave him a nod.

"You can do it, my boy, I believe in you," Albus said.

The silence in the wait was absolute. "Tristan . . . is Harry," Severus said slowly.

"Harry has James' invisibility cloak," Lupin told you. "Severus can use it to sneak in and get them out before they realize he was there."

"Which I need to do before the Dark Lord tires of waiting and decides to kill them," Severus said flatly, leaving them in favor of saving his family.

* * *

Getting there without anyone noticing was the easy part. A silencing spell cast on himself on top of the cloak left him completely invisible, but he still felt exposed wandering through the abandoned halls of the strange manor. His original plan was to find the dungeons, the most likely place they were being held, but the manor seemed to have other ideas and kept leading him up.

Part of the trap, he supposed, but he hoped that at the end of the trap, he found his wife and son and not those who took her. Their safety was more important than any revenge he wanted to take.

The house led him to a closed door at the top of the stairs. He could hear a voice, and he cast a charm to amplify the sound.

"Yes, I'll be your mommy now," a familiar voice said. _Bellatrix_ , Severus thought harshly. Her, he'd kill without remorse, but he hesitated barging into the room. He needed to find out who else was in the room. "I've stolen you like Snape stole my family from me," she said, nearly singing. "I'm your mommy now, not that filthy muggle."

Hearing something, Severus amplified the spell, causing Bellatrix's voice to hurt his eyes, but he was now able to identify the noise as someone crying.

Danielle.

Severus paused. He was sure Bellatrix was the only Death Eater inside, but he needed to be sure.

A few minutes later, the spell still amplified, Severus was as sure as he could be. Bellatrix continued talking, and it sickened him to think she was talking to his baby son that way, to think that she was _holding_ him.

Canceling the spell, Severus blasted open the door, rushing inside to find Bellatrix Lestrange with an arm around Danielle's throat, tight, her wand to his wife's temple. He could tell by Danielle's breathing that the grip was rather tight, and he moved to curse her.

"Ah, uh uh," Bellatrix sung. "I know that's you Snape. If I think you might try anything, I'll kill her, so you might as well show yourself. Our Lord didn't say I could kill her, but I think he'll be happy just the same to have you."

Severus shed the cloak, knowing he could beat Bellatrix in a fight, fair or not. It was getting Danielle _away_ from her that he needed to focus on.

"Where's Tristan?" Severus snapped, taking a quick look around the room, his breath barely coming. There was a small crib on his right, far enough away from Bellatrix.

"Oh, the brat's good and _grounded_ ," Bellatrix laughed. "Pesky little boy, trying to curse our Lord. He'll get what he deserves."

"Let her go and I'll go with you," Snape lied, but Bellatrix just laughed.

"Oh, like I believe that," she said. "You know, Lucius talked about this one," she continued, giving Danielle a kiss to the top of the head and tightening her arm. Danielle started to struggle and the witch loosened her grip a bit. "Oh, the things I heard he _did_ to her," she laughed, and Severus froze. "I'm surprised you didn't think of her as used meat. Ah, don't move, Snape," she snapped as Severus went to raise his wand. "I _will_ kill her. I'd be more than happy to. With _her_ out of the pictures, the Dark Lord will let _me_ raise the little one. How do you feel about that? Feeling like I _stole_ something from you. Something _important_?" Severus didn't answer her. "Answer me, Snape! You _stole_ my sister from me, you bastard. She was so close to being one of our Lord's favorites, and you had to step in and _corrupt_ her!"

"Bellatrix-"

"No! You _will_ pay, Snape! The only way I will let her go is if you throw me your wand," she said. "Your wand for your wife's life. That's a fair trade, if you ask me," she said, sounding smug. "What do you think?"

Severus stared at her, unsure at another way out of the situation. His wand was badly positioned; any spell he cast without moving would miss. If he moved to position himself better, she would claimed she would kill Danielle.

Severus didn't doubt she would. Bellatrix before Azkaban didn't hesitant to kill, and she seemed even more eager to do so now.

"I throw you my wand, you let Danielle go?" Severus verified, thinking he could use the movement of fainting a throw to curse her. He wouldn't miss.

"No," she laughed. "I changed my mind," she said, tightening her grip again. "Drop your wand and kick it to me, instead. I think that's better."

Severus hesitated, but he knew he would comply. He could do a few wandless spells. Not nearly as strong as wanded, but it would be enough to incapacitate her until he could reach his wand again.

Looking at Danielle, fear in her eyes, he wanted to tell her it would be alright, but he knew Bellatrix would try to twist anything that he said to her. Still looking at her, he dropped his wand, using his foot to kick it toward the insane witch.

A second later, she laughed and tightened her grip on Danielle, and before Severus could raise his hands to wandlessly stun her, Danielle was choking up blood and collapsed to the floor.

He subconsciously recognized it as a blood-draining curse. It took a few seconds for him to understand that Bellatrix . . .

Bellatrix killed her. Killed Danielle.

Severus never even had a chance to try to save her.

As Bellatrix continued to laugh, Severus raised his hands, anger building. The blood seeping out of his wife's mouth, eyes, ears served to fuel his hate and he felt magic deep inside him building.

Without thinking, the power released, hitting Bellatrix, her laugh cutting off abruptly as she dissolved into nothing.

Slowly, Severus knelt down next to Danielle and stroked her face, having trouble comprehending she was gone, even through the blood.

It was the sound of the baby crying that brought him out of his stupor. His son. And Tristan was still somewhere, hopefully still alive. Feeling as if he were watching himself, Severus drew out one of the portkeys he brought with him, spelling it to stay attached to Danielle's body. It would bring her back safely to his office. Feeling nothing but anger and hatred and sadness, Severus activated it and watched his wife disappear.

Walking to the crib, Severus looked at his new child for a moment before picking him up, hugging him close. Another few absent-minded movements and he had his wand and the cloak covering him again, the silencing spell blocking all from hear his footsteps or the cry of the child.

With Bellatrix dead, finding the dungeon was easy; he found Tristan bound and bleeding in a partly flooded cell, half unconscious. His eyes would open for a moment before losing grip, and Severus wondered what they did to him. What his son did to them that they bound him so completely.

After making sure no one would interrupt them, Severus uncloaked himself, putting the gripping the cloak and the last portkey in the hand holding the baby. Holding tight to his sons, Severus activated the portkey, his thoughts on one last thing.

No, two last things.

Voldemort would pay.

And Lucius would die.


	36. Chapter 35 - The Next Step

**A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews!**

 **Sorry for the long wait (and shorter chapter). There's a lot to get done this time of year and I haven't had any time to write (probably during a horrible spot in the story to pause, too, sorry), but I wanted to get _something_ up. **

**Updates, for a bit, are going to be on the slow side (I'll try not to let it go as long as I have this time) until I get everything caught up in the RL.**

 **A Summary up to this point:**

 **Harry's pretending to be Snape's son, Tristan (who doesn't actually exist), and the son of an old . . .** ** _dead_** **. . . girlfriend of Snape's. He was deaged two years, so while Ron, Hermione, and Draco are in 7th year, Harry/Tristan is in 5th . . . and he's a Slytherin prefect this year. He's taken to the Dark Arts, believing it will be what will protect him from the Dark Lord (hiding this from Snape), while regular Defense magic is giving him problems with his new wand. He's gotten decent at Occlumency, but it doesn't stop the visions because it's a different sort of magic, magic that is preventing him from passing on; preventing him from dying, which he found out when Bellatrix accidentally cursed him and he** ** _did_** **die for a few moments.**

 **Voldemort's response to Tristan getting cursed caused the Malfoys – and Severus – to turn their back on the Dark Lord, which led to the Malfoys handing over Danielle, who they had been keeping alive in their dungeon on the Dark Lord's command, which eventually led to Severus and Danielle falling in love. Harry and Snape have a decent relationship right now; Harry is on the border of considering him 'dad' and thinking of him as 'Snape', and doesn't quite understand why he feels so attached to him, but he likes the idea of having a real family.**

 **The Malfoys are living in the castle. In the hospital when Danielle was in labor, she had Severus had another small argument which lead to Severus leaving the hospital. She had Severus' kid (a boy), and before Danielle was able to tell Severus something she realized while reading the Prophet, the baby and Tristan were kidnapped by Death Eaters. Outcome: Tristan and baby are alive, Danielle and Bellatrix are dead. The Ministry has been taken over by Voldemort, but currently owners of Hogwarts have made it so the Ministry has no power over the school.**

 **There's really a lot more going on than that, but hopefully it serves as a reminder. This story will not be abandoned, but just slow up the updates for awhile. Thoughts and constructive criticism are welcome.**

 **This chapter is reposted with a fix about Harry's wand – thank you to reviewer MK who pointed out the mistake!**

 **Chapter 35 – The Next Step**

"Severus," Black said.

"Have you found any more leads?" Severus asked, ignoring the stare of the man.

"What?"

"The horcruxes," Severus spat.

"No," Black said slowly. "I don't think the locket is in the house."

Severus took a look at Black before looking back down into the box in his lap. "Where would it have gone?" Severus tried to focus on the tasks of the future instead of the look Danielle had on her face when he left her alone at the hospital, angry.

"I think Mundungus might have stolen things, before. When I was cleaning out the house, before I knew the locket was important. Something Kreacher said . . ."

"Black," Severus snapped.

"Snape, no one has seen Dung since Albus died. No one _I_ know, anyway. He's vanished."

Severus picked up the ring from the box, looking over it, hoping it would give him some clue to the other horcuxes. Albus seemed to think it was important; Severus had seen him wearing the cracked ring frequently after he destroyed the horcrux inside.

"What are you going to do about Malfoy?" Black suddenly asked, and Severus dropped the ring, slamming the box closed.

"Kill him," he said, throwing the box onto the desk. He wanted to kill him. For hurting Danielle, for pretending he hadn't.

"Severus-"

"I'm not going to kill him," Severus answered after a few moments, shaking his head, but Black didn't appear to believe him. "Danielle didn't tell me," he said quietly. "It was one of the few things we fought about. Probably because she was afraid of what I'd do to him." He paused. "She wouldn't want me to kill him."

"Okay, you aren't going to kill him," Black said hesitantly. "But what are you going to do about him?"

"Tristan should be awake soon," Severus said, standing. "Don't mess with anything while I'm gone."

"I'll come with you," the man said. "He doesn't know, yet . . . about Danielle?"

"He's been asleep for most of the last week," he snapped. " _No_ , he doesn't know."

"The funeral is in a few days . . ." Black trailed off as Severus glared at him before leaving the office. The number of people in the corridor outside the gargoyle only served to remind him that Hogwarts was now a refuge, a sanctuary.

For now. Shacklebolt had informed him that they were continuing to layer on the defenses, but at the moment, Hogwarts was being left alone; more families were being snuck in every day after the adults had agreed to questioning under veritaserum focusing on their loyalties and their purpose at Hogwarts. Severus was less worried about the legality of the situation than allowing the wrong person into Hogwarts.

They've been lucky, so far, but Severus found he had trouble focusing on much; he left Lupin to organize watching the newcomers and students for any suspicious behavior.

Black followed him to the hospital wing, into one of the back rooms where Tristan was sleeping. The few times he woke so far, the child had been unresponsive; they only knew he was awake because of the panic that they only managed to calm with another sleeping potion. Poppy believed that it was simply the stress of the situation; all effects of the curses cast on him should be gone this time when he would wake, this time.

* * *

It was a few moments before Harry registered that he wasn't in pain. A few more moments before he realized his eyes were open and he couldn't see; he needed his glasses, but when he struggled to reach for them, someone grabbed his hand.

"Tristan," Snape called. "Tristan, it's your father. Can you hear me?"

Harry didn't answer; he couldn't remember much since he tried to curse Voldemort. _Was_ he safe? Or was his father captured like him.

But then, why wasn't he in pain? Harry found his thoughts to be much too slow for him to focus.

"Tristan?" Black said, and Severus shot him a look.

"M-my glasses?" Harry finally whispered.

"Missing," Snape answered back. "Professor Flitwick is researching the magic needed to make a pair, but . . . there's a lack of Optology books at Hogwarts. It was never an area of magic that was taught here . . ."

"With the _size_ of Hogwarts' library, you would assume that-"

"Black!" his father snapped, and Harry tried to believe that he was safe, back at Hogwarts. "Tristan, do you feel well enough to talk about what happened?"

"I wish I could see," the boy said quietly. "I mean, I – I _know_ it's you, but . . . er . . . why can't the wizard come here?"

Severus paused before answering.

"The Ministry has fallen into the hands of the Dark Lord."

The Ministry had fallen. Harry couldn't process that. What did that even mean?

"Where are we, then?" Harry asked. Because wasn't Hogwarts controlled by the Ministry?

"Hogwarts," he answered. "We're safe here, for now, but there will be very little chance at leaving safely."

Harry tried to think back to what happened. The hospital.

"Where's Danielle?" Harry asked. "Is the baby okay?"

"Your brother is fine," Snape said slowly. "The Dark Lord was targeting Danielle when he targeted St. Mungos. Danielle and the baby; they took you only because you were there."

"Voldemort knows," Harry said suddenly. "He knows who I am."

Snape didn't answer right away. "We'll discuss that later," he said, his voice stilted. "Tristan, Danielle didn't make it."

Danielle didn't . . .

"She's dead?" Harry asked.

Another death. _Kill the spare_. . . the words echoed his his head . . . But Danielle wasn't the spare. This time, it was him; she was the one Voldemort wanted.

"Why?" Harry managed to ask, his voice breaking.

"I don't know, Tristan," Snape said.

"Oh," he said.

He didn't mean to, but he felt just as dark in his mind as his vision. Harry curled up, closing his eyes, not being able to help think that there was less difference between his eyes being open and being closed than ever before.

"Your wand is on the nightstand if you need it," Snape said.

It was a few minutes later that Harry registered what his father had said, but his mind was on other things. "What's the baby's name name?" Harry asked, but it wasn't Snape that answered.

"Severus hadn't named him yet," Sirius said from the spot that Snape was in mere moments before.

"Where did he go?" he asked, something tightening in his chest when he realized the man left without saying another word. Just, 'Danielle is dead.' Not, 'How do you feel?', no, 'It will be fine.'

But Harry supposed it wouldn't be fine. His stepmother was dead and it was quite possible Hogwarts was the only safe place they could be.

Harry fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Snape probably had better things to deal with than him.

"He'll be back," Sirius said after a minute.

* * *

Harry put on the transfigured glasses that Professor Flitwick spelled with disappointment. It lightened the room – slightly. But only for things close by, and those still felt blurry and dark. Beyond the edge of his bed was darkness; he couldn't even see the foot of his bed, a few feet away.

Suddenly, a book appeared in front of him, and Harry took it from Madam Pomfrey.

"Can you read this okay?" she asked kindly. Amazingly, he could. It was a little blurry, still, but up close was lighter.

"I guess," Harry said despondently. "I can read what it says. Everything is still dark, though . . ."

"Everything?" Flitwick squeaked.

"It's nothing but dark for anything farther away than my hand," he answered with a sigh. "I feel like I'm in a very dim spotlight."

"I'll try to improve it by the time classes start again," his professor said, a hand on his shoulder.

"Where's my dad?" Harry opted to respond. He couldn't see Madam Pomfrey, but Flitwick looked over his shoulder like they were exchanging looks and Harry felt a burst of anger.

"You're almost set to be released," Madam Pomfrey said, a lot closer than he realized she was, and he jumped. "He should be here to walk you back to your rooms, soon."

 _Should be_ , echoed in Harry's mind. His father – _Snape_ – hadn't been by in the last two days since he woke. Sirius, either, but he at least came by to say he would be gone for awhile. Professor Lupin did stop in every day, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let any students visit, yet, saying it was too unclear who could be trusted when he couldn't see or protect himself.

 _Maybe he's with the baby_ , Harry thought. Babies took a lot of work when they were born, didn't they? And without his mother . . .

Harry fought back the tears that threatened to fall. He refused to cry in front of his professors. Honestly, he didn't see the point of crying at all. It wouldn't bring Danielle back, and all it would do is make people feel sorry for him. They _already_ felt sorry enough.

A few hours later, after Pomfrey deemed him well enough to not have to stay in the hospital wing, Harry heard the cries of a baby getting louder until he could tell it was somewhere out in the main part of the Hospital Wing. Curious, and despite the fact he didn't have his cane, Harry found the door slowly – standing, the ground was mostly dark to him – and followed the sounds of the cries. Snape must have noticed him rather quickly, because he approached him, thrusting a cane – not _his_ cane, though. That was probably long gone – into his hand and barking to follow him. Unfortunately, Snape walked out of his field of vision before he could comprehend they were leaving and found himself standing in the middle of the Hospital Wing, lost.

"What is it?" Snape barked from a short distance, and Harry huffed.

"I can't _see_ ," he snapped back. If Snape was going to go back to _this_ after everything, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to the tower with him. He'd find his own way to Slytherin and just leave it at that. He didn't think any of his friends had stayed for the holidays, though . . .

Briefly, Harry wondered if anyone was coming back to Hogwarts if they couldn't leave.

"Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall made you glasses," Snape said with a stilted voice.

 _Not that they help, much_ , Harry thought bitterly, knowing better than to voice those thoughts to the man, especially if he was in a bad mood. After a few moments, Harry realized he didn't respond to Snape at all, though. "They help a little, but only up close," he mumbled, and he heard Snape sigh with annoyance.

"I have a meeting now and don't have time to deal with your eyes. I'll be back for you later," Snape said flatly, and the baby crying – soft as it had been at the moment – started to fade in the distance.

In Harry's mind – knowing that Snape had ignored him for the last two days – later may as well been a week off. Frustrated, Harry hit the stone floor with his cane and started toward the door Snape left from moments earlier, making his decision.

Slytherin dungeons it was.

The trek to the dungeons was slow and tedious, and Harry was glad he didn't run into anyone on the way to see him struggle. He felt weaker than usual, and had fallen a few times – one of the times was on the stairs, but thankfully, he was only a few steps away from the ground floor at the time – and finding his way was worse than a weak lumos in a pitch black room.

He made it though, and gave the password to enter, not knowing what he was going to find in the common room. As he entered, he heard lots of chatter that started to die off at each step he took. It felt awfully crowded for not actually being able to see anyone, and he wondered when everyone had gotten back to Hogwarts.

Nearly missing his step again, he found Draco at his side, holding onto his arm.

"Careful, Tristan," the boy said quietly. "I didn't think they'd release you already."

Harry shrugged.

"I'll help you to your room. You look tired." Not having the energy to be annoyed with Draco, Harry let him help him to the fifth year dorms.

"Tristan!" Wyatt said, coming into view after they entered. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'll leave you two," Draco said flatly, and the older boy left, and Harry let himself collapse onto his bed.

"Fine," Harry answered, looking around, to no avail. "Is everyone else in the common room?"

"Er . . ." Wyatt said slowly. "Will is. I don't think anyone else came back, for blokes in our dorm, anyway. I haven't seen them. Headmaster Snape sent someone to pick up my family, though, so maybe he is still doing that with everyone else."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling oddly empty. It wasn't that he didn't care about his other friends, but, he couldn't bring himself to feel much at that point. He even tried bring up worry for Harry Potter's friends, but . . .

Harry shook his head. It was better to not have to feel what he was probably feeling right then.

"Dinner is starting soon. Do you want to head down?" Wyatt asked, and Harry shook his head.

"I'm tired," he answered, and Wyatt shugged.

"I'll bring you something," his friend told him and left before Harry could thank him, and hoped he brought something he could actually eat.

* * *

Severus knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He had to deal with Lucius Malfoy. He had spent the last week and a half brooding on how to handle him, but it all came down to one fact: He couldn't allow Malfoy to stay in the castle.

He wouldn't allow Malfoy to stay in the castle.

But what about Narcissa? Was she aware of Lucius' treatment of Danielle while under their 'care'?

Severus handed the baby – still unnamed – to Lupin, who promised to watch him while Severus dealt with the Malfoys. Before leaving, he found himself staring at his son, feeling lost.

"Alright, Severus?" Lupin asked, and Severus shot him a glare before stalking out of his office.

The corridor outside the Malfoys was cold and bare. He had taken out all art and decorations minus one painting directly outside the door that was to notify him the instant one of them left the room.

He didn't bother knocking and found himself face to face with Lucius Malfoy nearly as soon as he entered.

He counted to five, trying to control his temper. _Slow breaths_ , he thought to himself.

It didn't feel to be working.

"What can I do for you Severus?" Lucius asked, and Severus took one last breath and looked him in the eye.

"You have two days to be packed and gone," Severus said as level as he could manage. "I will not have you in the castle any longer."

"You are throwing us out while you bring in the families of all the other students?" Lucius said smoothly, but Severus could tell that the wizard was not expecting the decision.

" _Treatment_ if my wife, while in your care, has come to light before her death," he said, allowing some anger to show through. "You are no longer welcome here."

The silence in the room was heavy, and Severus was ready to curse the man at the first moment of disagreement.

"I left the girl's innocence intact," Lucius finally hissed. "More so than anyone could say about _you_."

Without thinking, Severus cursed the man hard enough he flew across the room, landing a mere foot away from a table adorned with teacups.

"Two days," Severus hissed.

"And what about me and the children?" Naricissa interrupted. Severus turned to look at her; there was no surprise in her eyes, no anger to indicate he had said anything about her husband she disproved of. Perhaps a show – the Malfoys were nothing, if not masters of show – but it did nothing to sway Severus to show her some pity.

"Draco, as he is a student, may stay. The rest of you have two days to be gone. I suggest contacting a member of the Order to see about safe abode. I will not aid you."

Wand still aimed at Lucius, Severus gave him one last look and left, slamming the door on the way out.

Severus was still angry by the time he arrived back at his office. The conversation left an unsatisfied feeling in his chest; he still wanted Lucius dead, but he knew threatening would be a poor decision.

Lupin had the sense to not ask how it went, merely handing him his son back.

"Dinner started, we should head down. Is Tristan well enough to join?"

"Tristan is still in the Hospital Wing," Severus snapped. "Madam Pomfrey will see to his dinner."

A moments pause before Lupin continued.

"Severus, have you visited him? He's been asking about you for two days."

"I saw him moments before I handed you the baby," Severus hissed. "Do not presume to offer me advice on taking care of my son."

 _Two days_ , a voice in the back of his head said, but he shook it off. The boy needed to rest, not deal with Severus snapping at everyone. The Hospital Wing was the best place for him.

And Severus had to admit, he didn't have the energy to deal with the continuous issue of the boy's health at the moment. And his eyes. Poppy could deal with it.

Poppy had said his vision without glasses had gotten worse, probably damage from one of the curses he was recently hit with, and Filius work with the glasses apparently hadn't gotten any further than when he last checked in with him.

Severus found his only response to everything was, 'damn it all,'.


	37. Chapter 36 - Friend of a Wand

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Only excuse is not a lot of time to write.**

 **A Recap:**

 **Harry's pretending to be Snape's son, Tristan (who doesn't actually exist), and the son of an old . . .** _dead_ **. . . girlfriend of Snape's. He was deaged two years, so while Ron, Hermione, and Draco are in 7th year, Harry/Tristan is in 5th . . . and he's a Slytherin prefect this year. He's taken to the Dark Arts, believing it will be what will protect him from the Dark Lord (hiding this from Snape), while regular Defense magic is giving him problems with his new wand. He's gotten decent at Occlumency, but it doesn't stop the visions because it's a different sort of magic, magic that is preventing him from passing on; preventing him from dying, which he found out when Bellatrix accidentally cursed him and he** _did_ **die for a few moments.**

 **Voldemort's response to Tristan getting cursed caused the Malfoys – and Severus – to turn their back on the Dark Lord, which led to the Malfoys handing over Danielle, who they had been keeping alive in their dungeon on the Dark Lord's command, which eventually led to Severus and Danielle falling in love. Harry and Snape have a decent relationship right now; Harry is on the border of considering him 'dad' and thinking of him as 'Snape', and doesn't quite understand why he feels so attached to him, but he likes the idea of having a real family.**

 **Severus kicked the Malfoys (Well, not Draco) out of Hogwarts in revenge for Lucius hurting Danielle (although Snape only knew what Bellatrix said and really has no idea** ** _what_** **happened, because Danielle always avoided the question), which probably got him good and angry.**

 **Harry/Danielle and baby were kidnapped, Danielle died in front of Severus and Severus killed Bellatrix. Harry's worse off for wear. Hogwarts is now separate from the Ministry (which is good, because the Ministry fell to Voldemort), and the Order has been sneaking in families who wished for protection and were keeping their kids in school.**

 **There's really a lot more going on than that, but hopefully it serves as a reminder. This story will not be abandoned, but just slow up the updates for awhile. Thoughts and constructive criticism are welcome.**

 **Chapter 36 – Friend of a Wand**

 _The first thing that alerted Harry that something was wrong was that he could see._

 _The room wasn't brightly lit, but he could still see the details of the stone wall of the quiet room._

" _My Lord?" someone to his left asked him, and he turned to look at the sickly man. He looked half starved, barely standing, but with a look in his eyes Harry wasn't sure he liked._

" _Hogwartsss," he answered smoothly._

" _My Lord?" the man asked again, this time, his voice cracking. "You wish us to attack?"_

" _I have no interessst in the ssschool at the moment," he hissed slowly. "The wand I am looking for isss in Albusss Dumbledore'sss tomb."_

" _It will t-take quite a bit of power to get though those wards. N-nothing s-short of an onslaught . . ." The man trailed off._

" _We will get though without anyone noticing," he said, not leaving room for discussion. "Find wizardssss who can get usss though, or pay the consequencessss."_

" _Y-yes, my Lord," the man stuttered, and Harry felt the pleasure in tormenting the man for something he could surely do himself, given the time._

 _Time for this was not something he'd pass out freely today._

Harry woke with a start, his scar burning. He managed to muffle any noises, but from the stillness of the room, he didn't think Wyatt was back yet.

A few moments later, Harry started processing the vision. Voldemort was going to try to get into Hogwarts.

No. He said he didn't care about Hogwarts. He wanted into Dumbledore's tomb.

For Dumbledore's wand.

Harry's first instinct was to rush to Dumbledore's tomb and get the wand himself, but the _slight_ issue with that being that Harry wasn't capable of doing any rushing anywhere. His next thought was Snape, but Harry didn't know where he was and wasn't exactly in a mood to go looking for him just to get yelled at.

Sirius wasn't around right now, and Remus would be just as hard to find as Snape, and he'd probably make him talk to Snape anyway, which brought him back to going to Dumbledore's tomb himself. He knew the way. He visited several times already, and it wasn't hard to get there; even with nearly no sight and trouble walking, Harry could probably make it there before he managed to find anyone.

A voice in the back of his head seemed to be trying to tell him the flaw in his logic, but he refused to listen. If Snape didn't have time to deal with him, he probably didn't have time to deal with anything else, and what could go wrong with him making it there and back before Voldemort could even find someone to break the wards?

If he even _could_ break the wards.

But it was safer to get the wand, anyway, wasn't it? If Voldemort wanted it, there was no way Harry was going to let him have it.

Harry was on his feet before he realized he made his decision. A quick check of the time showed that everyone would still be in the middle of dinner, and Harry ignored that voice that told him to go to the Great Hall and find Snape.

Harry _wanted_ to do this. He _had_ to. He had to prove he wasn't just some pathetic freak who couldn't walk or see anymore. Even if no one knew, he was still Harry Potter. Where was the boy who killed a basilisk?

Voldemort was still after him, and he still wanted to stop Voldemort.

And he'd do it. Would Voldemort even be able to kill him, if he couldn't die? Or, maybe Voldemort was the only one who _could_ kill him.

It didn't really matter, Harry decided. It was because of Voldemort that his stepmother was dead, and he'd find a way to stop him.

Anger building up inside of him, Harry made his way out of the dorm and through the common room with movements smoothed by a fierce determination set by revenge and injustice. He managed to make it out of the dungeons and through the Entrance Hall without running into anyone, and after what felt like an incredibly long trip, Harry found himself outside, glad that the garden lights were still lit, slightly grayer-than black view, a vague light in the distance.

It was about halfway there that he realized he didn't have his cloak, the cold starting to replace the fire he had been feeling earlier. Trying to shrug it off, Harry cast a warming charm and continued, no longer a hundred percent sure he was heading in the right direction anymore. He was going off of instinct earlier, but even he could tell it was getting darker, and he was sure the garden lights would be turned off, soon, to discourage nightly outing.

It was too late to change his mind, though, he decided, heading for what he was sure was the lights of the tribute to the last Headmaster. It was dim because of his vision, but it was the only guide he had.

The garden lights went out as he reached the tomb, casting him once again into complete darkness; he kicked at the ground, thinking he should be _used_ to this by now and he refused to let himself start panicking.

" _Lumos_ ," he cast, trying to produce the most light he could. It helped. Actually, it helped more than his new glasses alone helped in a bright room. He had to extinguish his wand to open the tomb, which was actually easier than he thought it'd be – all his studying _was_ practical, it seemed _–_ and he lit his wand again as he entered.

Dumbledore's wand was in his hands, and Harry tried his best to not look at the dead Headmaster as he reached for the wand, half expecting the man to awaken and grab him. His first reach was a miss, having misjudged how close he was to it, but the second time, he grabbed a hold –

Harry started when his own wand, bright with lumos, send out colored sparks even he could see.

Started, Harry froze until he realized no one was going to attack him and he made for a slower grab for the wand, apologizing to the old man for taking it.

It was for the better. Voldemort _couldn't_ take Dumbledore's wand.

Sparks flew from his own wand again when he touched Dumbledore's and as he pulled it from the man's loose grasp, he felt an odd warmth come over him.

 _Another warming spell and a lumos to help get me back to the castle_ , Harry thought to himself after a few minutes of staring at the two wands in his hands, deciding to think about what it meant later.

Forever later, Harry decided that he needed to spell his droid to be a seeing-eye droid; this side of Hogwarts seemed to be barely lit from the outside, and he had to keep his wand unlit to be able to make sure he was going in the right direction. Harry spent the rest of the time back to the castle thinking about how he would spell his droid and spell a magic cane in case he was ever without one in the future.

As frustrating and hard and horrible as everything seemed sometimes, he refused to let himself be unprotected again. Let himself be weak.

No matter what it took.

* * *

"I do believe it would add to the security of this place immensely, Headmaster," Lovegood said, and Severus did his best not to sigh in the man's face.

"Mr. Lovegood, there is no proof that _genfloers_ exist; to attempt it would be a waste of valuable time that could be spent on adding to wards we _know_ will add to the security."

"There's _plenty_ of proof if you're willing to look," the man insisted.

"I don't have any people to spare to try . . . _summoning_ these creatures, whether they exist or not," Severus said flatly.

"Well, then, perhaps I'll simply give it a go myself . . ." Lovegood trailed off, his eyes fixating on something on Severus' desk. Following his gaze, Severus grabbed the ring and threw it back in the box it belonged. "Where did you get that?"

"That would be none of your business," Severus snapped.

"You have one of the Hallows," he said in a far-off voice. "One of the Deathly Hallows. I had no idea you-"

"You are mistaken," Severus said. "It is simply a broken ring."

"No, no, _you_ are mistaken . . . that stone . . . that must be the artifact, it _must_ be. . ."

"Mr. Lovegood, I believe our time here is done. I will see you out, if I must."

"Headmaster, if I could see the stone-"

"No. You will leave," Severus enunciated slowly, holding back his temper.

"Have you been using it? The Resurrection Stone?"

"I have not . . ." _The_ what _, Severus wondered_ , "done anything to the ring but study it," he finished. "It's purpose-"

"Of course, of course. The war with you know who must be put above all other activities," Lovegood finished. "But . . . perhaps . . . _later_ , I could take a look at it myself . . .?"

Severus paused. If he could get through this conversation without obliviating the man, perhaps it would be better.

"I will consider it, if you speak of the ring to no one," Severus said flatly.

"Of course, of course, my lips are sealed," he said, taking a bow as he stood. "I will be going now, then Headmaster. I will take up the task of calling on the genfloers myself. Never been the best with wards myself, and I would like to do all I could to help."

"Good night," Severus answered, his patience wearing thin.

"Yes, yes, good night," Lovegood said as he left the room, and Severus wondered what the Deathly Hallows were, and why Lovegood called the ring a . . .

Cautiously, Severus picked up the box and took out the ring. If he could . . .

Severus reluctantly threw the ring back into the box and locked the box back where it belonged; the days were past where he would play with magic he knew nothing about. He had a vague memory of a childhood story, but Severus had grown out of those childish games young; he had been far more interested in his mother's magic books . . . _real_ magic . . . rather than games and stories.

A few minutes later, Severus realized he was too tired to function properly. Perhaps an early night . . .

Severus sighed, rubbing his face with both hands as he rested his elbows on the desk. He needed to collect the baby from Minerva, since he promised it wouldn't be for the night again, and he should probably pick up Tristan from the hospital wing.

He made his way to Minerva's rooms slowly, and by the time he got there, his tiredness had overwhelmed him to the point he wanted to ask her to watch the baby for the night . . . again. He thought he made up his mind by the time he knocked, and a frantic Minerva – or as frantic as she would let herself appear – answered the door.

"Good, you're here. I need to get to Gryffindor tower. And Severus . . . you really need to name the child. We can't keep calling him, 'the baby', forever."

With that, she dumped the half-asleep baby in his arms as she walked past him. _To the hospital wing, then_ , Severus thought with a tired sigh.

Severus wasn't sure how, but he knew something was wrong he moment he walked through the hospital wing doors. Poppy, tending to a second year student who was probably messing with a spell he shouldn't, glanced over at him questioningly. The door to the room Tristan was supposed to be in was open, the lights out. _He could be sleeping_ , Severus told himself as he picked up his pace to look inside the room.

He was sure his heart stopped when he saw Tristan was not in the room.

"Where is Tristan?" Severus asked forcefully, and Poppy glared at him.

"Severus, you picked him up earlier. Perhaps you should take some time to sleep, if you're-"

"I left him here!" he snapped.

"Well, I released him, so he probably went to the dorms, Headmaster," she answered flatly.

Severus realized he was holding the baby too tight when he started to cry. Switching the boy to a more comfortable position, Severus took a few breaths.

And a few more deeper ones.

He would check Tristan's dorm before he would get angry, Severus told himself. Or worried. _How far could a mostly-blind boy actually go?_ he wondered.

By the time he entered the Slytherin common room, he couldn't see the line between worried and angry anymore. The boy was fifteen – _seventeen,_ if you counted his previous age – and should know better than to wander off after being kidnapped and nearly killed.

"Where's Tristan?" Severus snapped at the closest student – a seventh year boy – and the boy shook his head. With a glare, he walked to the fifth year dorm to find Wyatt. "Where's Tristan?" he asked again, dark and low.

"N-not here, sir," the boy stammered out. "I thought he was still in the hospital wing . . ."

Without another word, Severus turned around, sending a patronus to Lupin and Minerva as soon as he was out in the corridor to inform them of Tristan's disappearance. He realized belatedly that the boy might have gone to his room in the tower – an even greater distance to travel from the hospital wing and unlikely given he had put a charm on the tower to alert him anytime it was entered – and decided to rush there in case Severus missed warding an entrance.

He was nearly to the Entrance Hall when the baby started crying and Severus tried to think of who might watch him while Severus looked for Tristan before sleeping for the rest of the night.

* * *

By the time Harry reached the Entrance Hall, he was exhausted. Closing the door, he decided he would just sit up against the wall and rest and before anyone could see, Harry slide Dumbledore's wand into a pocket inside his robes.

No one had to know he had it. He couldn't quite place a finger on why, but something about the wand made him think he couldn't tell anyone about it. It didn't hurt that his wand – his current wand – seemed to be happy at Harry being close to it.

Not that a wand could feel _happy_ , Harry told himself, feeling ridiculous.

Harry heard the cries of a baby get closer at the same time hearing McGonagall's voice getting louder.

"It is unbelievable that they tried to keep open for as long as they did," he heard her say. "Focused on running a _toy_ shop, in the middle of a war."

"I'll be glad to see Rick again," Lupin answered. "I haven't seen him since I was fifteen." He was so intent on listening to his professors talk, he had tuned out the baby crying and was startled when he was suddenly being dragged standing by his arm.

"Where have you been?" Snape hissed.

"I got lost!" Harry lied, feeling bad about it briefly, but told himself it was for the better. Something about that wand would keep him safe. "It's not like I can see."

"Then why did you leave the hospital wing?" Lupin interceded. "If you can't see, you can't protect yourself properly."

Harry didn't answer, but Snape released his arm to adjust the baby in his arms, and Harry took a step back, casting Snape into darkness.

"I'll take it from here," Snape said, the anger his his voice leaving a hollow sound behind. "Come along, Tristan," he continued, putting a hand on his shoulder and slowly guiding him. Despite his anger at Snape earlier, Harry felt relieved to have the man so close to guide him.

 _I should tell him_ , part of Harry urged.

All Harry could think about was the wand, though. If he told Snape, they'd wonder where the wand went.

 _Tell him_.

The baby started crying again, and Harry realized he didn't notice he had stopped.

"What's his name?" Harry ask, finally finding his voice as they arrived at the gargoyle.

Snape didn't answer at first, just guided Harry to stand on the stairs that took them to the Headmaster's office, and then urged him into their sitting room and finally put pressure on his shoulder, causing him to sit on the sofa. After a small sound of protest, probably gone unheard over the baby crying, his father sat down next to him, cradling the baby close.

Leaning in, Harry looked at the baby; he saw a round face, scrunched up with his crying, but details were hard to notice. Sighing, Harry leaned back.

"Matthew," Snape said suddenly, and it took a moment for Harry to realize that Matthew was the baby's name. "Matthew Anthony?" he questioned.

"Matthew Anthony Snape," Harry repeated, but Snape shook his head.

"Matthew Alexander," he corrected, then repeated himself. After a few minutes, Snape seemed to have made up his mind with a nod.

"So his name is Matthew Alexander Snape?" Harry asked and Snape looked at him after nodding.

"What were you doing in the Entrance Hall, Tristan?" his father asked.

"I . . ." Harry started. What was he going to say? The truth: he stole Dumbledore's wand, originally to protect it from Voldemort, but now he wanted to keep it? Or, maybe a version of the truth.

"I had a vision," Harry continued slowly. "You-know-who was talking about breaking the wards quietly to get into Headmaster Dumbledore's tomb."

He wouldn't mention the wand. Harry had resealed the tomb; perhaps stronger than it was originally warded. They could, possibly, not even consider entering.

"And your reason for being in the Entrance Hall?"

Harry paused too long. He knew he did. A lie would be conveniently gift wrapped to Snape with how long it took him to answer.

"You're blind," Snape said flatly, apparently gathering the reason for his pause. "You are recovering from the latest bought of dark spells cast on you. In addition, the Dark Lord is most likely not near Hogwarts at the moment. What were you going to do?" All Harry could do was shrug. Snape might not have a lot of faith in Harry, but Harry _did_ what he set out to do, didn't he? All by himself. Blind and recovering. If he hadn't been so tired, Harry would probably have been offended by the suggestion. As it was, Harry took off his glasses, the struggling to see giving him a headache, glad the baby had finally started to calm down.

"Tristan," Snape started, sounding especially exhausted, but the man didn't continue. Harry felt he was looking at him, though, probably an annoyed look on his face. "The Dark Lord will not have an easy time getting through our wards," he finally said. "Please, just stay out of trouble, at least . . ." His father paused again, and Harry wish he knew what the man wanted to say. "Go to bed. I will get you a new cane in the morning."

"Where does Matthew sleep?" Harry ventured to ask.

"He has a crib our . . . my room."

"Can I hold him?"

"Perhaps when we're both not so exhausted," was all Snape said, and Harry sighed. He wasn't so small he was going to _drop_ the baby _while sitting_.

 _Tell him_ , the voice said again. _Tell him about the wand._

But Snape didn't want him practicing Dark Arts, and Harry had a feeling that both those wands wanted him to do precisely that. Not that Harry was planning on hurting anyone, but there was no possible way Harry was going to protect himself . . . and his baby brother . . . with simple curses anyone could do.

Harry stumbled to bed, familiar enough with the path to not have to focus on where he was going; glad that his father and Danielle ensured the path was always clear. He couldn't help but think that just as he got his family, it was being ripped from him and he made another vow.

He wouldn't let _anyone_ hurt his family again, especially Matthew. The Dark Lord had a bad habit of going after the wrong babies, Harry decided.

 **A/N: The Resurrection Stone's purpose in this story is not _really_ what everyone is probably thinking right off the bat . . . It has a purpose for Harry (being one of the Deathly Hallows), but I need it to play with Severus a bit first. I think my interpretation for the Deathly Hallows is a bit darker than the book implies them to be, but it is what it is ;)**


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